The Tale of Two Potters
by Kage James
Summary: Twins are a rare phenomenon occurring only if there is a family history. However, identical twins are freak occurrences. There is no rhyme nor reason. Charlie and Harry Potter are such freak accidents. Now they have discovered that they are more than just unwanted freaks living under the cupboard under the stairs. They have something special, something magically. AU.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Twins are a rare phenomenon occurring only if there is a family history. However, identical twins are freak occurrences. There is no rhyme nor reason. Charlie and Harry Potter are such freak accidents. Now they have discovered that they are more than just unwanted freaks living under the cupboard under the stairs. They have something special, something magically. AU.

**AN:** Yo! Long time no see. This is KJ with another story not related to my current TPoA world. So, if your reading this because you are following me, then I'm going to warn you real quick that this is not a dark Harry fan fiction. (Maybe it will be gray, because real life is gray. But no where near as dark as my other fic.) It will be Harry/Ginny, but Ginny won't come into this until book two. (So if you don't like that pairing, I'm giving you fair warning.)

No, I haven't abandoned TPoA. I'll probably finish it up within the month (it will probably still need to be beta-ed... but a months the plan) since classes have started up again. (I'll get so bored, I'll just start writing. I've found that boring classes are the best writing motivation.) This fiction is written with my twin, BloodRed13 (BR13). We wanted to write a Harry Potter fan fiction together (to go along with our Naruto fanfiction posted by BR13). So, we used what we knew. I think this will be a true depiction of what twin Potters would actually be like, because it's written by twins. Everything's been done in Harry Potter, but I think this will be very unique. Enjoy!

KJ

PS. This fic will be updated every other Thursday (starting with this Thursday).

* * *

**_Prologue: Of Freak Events_**

**Brothers to the End**

The clock, it ticks  
quick, before they flip  
Run, hide  
wide we stare in awe  
How?

Can this really be our fate?  
Are we worthless?  
Unloved? Discarded?  
Are they right?  
like trash, abandoned

Two, might be more than one  
but twice the share, twice the hate  
One's pain is shared  
it is our fate

Overcome by sadness  
we seek the shadows  
Hide, run  
shrink from the light  
The darkness a friend  
those creatures, no foe  
The crawlers, dark  
a comfort

We share our home

We wonder  
Is the burden shared  
with two?

Life at ease,  
when more?

Happiness fleeting, a concept  
yet we know it  
we know it well

It stems from a place you can  
never know,  
never touch with hands stained red  
It heals where their words hurt  
comforts when we ache  
to fill the Void

Love is something we know  
Fate a useless concept  
Because when there's two  
in due time,  
we stand,  
As long as we stand together

Brothers to the end

* * *

**Forged**

Forged to protect  
we walk one path,  
forward and forever,  
protect

Forged to fight  
fleeing, a wish  
but cannot attempt  
because we must stand

always in the darkness  
we called for the Light  
Twice the burden,  
yet Twice as bright

Forged to die  
the dreaded death march rings  
endless, relentless  
deeds we live to regret

Forged to live  
survive the storm  
weather the darkness  
as Demons are born

Forged in Fire  
Emerald, jaded  
Forged in Lightening  
once struck, now fated

Fated to Change

We were Forged

* * *

AN: Only the prologue and the interludes will be poems. (Poems brought to you by BR13, because I'm not that great of a literary mind.)


	2. Chapter One

**_Chapter One: Just another normal day, probably_**

In one lazy blink, Charlie was awake. His eyes staring straight ahead, not bothered by the inky blackness. This was normal, routine, average and he was more than accustomed to it by now. What could he say? Ten, nearly eleven years of the same old same old would do that to you.

Okay, so maybe he hadn't been doing this for that long, but it _felt_ like that. Hell, his body didn't even need the incessant reminder that normally left him hungry in the end, not any more anyway. Now, he got up at the same time every day, no matter the circumstances. He couldn't take a lie-in if he tried.

But that was okay. This was life. It was normal, routine. You got used to it. And really, he'd actually come to enjoy these early mornings. This hour or so of time just for him. It was nice, quiet in a way he didn't hate. His thoughts could wander without fear. So yeah, it was nice.

Pushing up from his prone position, Charlie did his best not to wake the body next to him. Sock covered feet sticking out from the frayed edges of their shared blanket. Some might think it strange that they liked to sleep head to toe, but it just made sense. They could make the most of the thinning mattress, already small enough in its own right, which they also shared. And it wasn't like his brother's feet smelled.

No for what it was worth, they always tried to keep as clean as possible. The cupboard under the stairs was really too small for anything else.

Stretching a bit as he rose, Charlie kicked around for his socks. He wasn't sure how his brother managed it, but Charlie just couldn't sleep with the bloody material on. Of course, when pressed by his constant companion he always claimed he hated to be confined, but really, his usual pair had enough holes in them that he was sure his feet could breathe just fine if he tried. Either way it just wasn't his thing, he could live with that.

Socks found and tugged on his feet, Charlie pushed his feet into his trainers. Held together mostly by tape and a lot of good luck, he hadn't needed to actually untie the things to slip them on in years. That was always a good thing. It saved on time.

After all the Dursleys waited for no one. At least not Dudley's whale of a stomach. He'd need every last minute he had to scramble a Dudley sized breakfast together. But that was his problem and he was more than equip to deal with it. He'd been doing it for years after all, not that he minded.

He was the eldest. It _should_ be his job to cook. At least he wasn't going to give his brother another chance to accidently burn himself at the stovetop. No, what kind of older brother would he be if he allowed that? It didn't matter how many times _he_ got burned, hot grease and oil a fiery temptress, he could take it, all of it, if only to spare his brother the pain. As far as he was concerned that was _his_ job. He'd do anything to keep him safe.

Socks and shoes on, Charlie grabbed the last thing he'd need to complete his outfit, a tawny length of rope. Rope in hand, Charlie looped it through the couple of belt loops still on his trousers. That was probably the worst thing about mending their own close. At least for the trousers, they always seemed to lose precious belt loops.

He guessed that was just the price they paid so that they didn't have to swim in Dudley's hand-me-downs. Their cousin, while only slightly older than the two of them was probably ten times their size. And while they'd eventually attempted to mend the pass downs so that they might actually fit, there was really only so much they could do with a size difference that big. Hence the length of rope firmly tied to Charlie's waist.

Now, it wasn't like they didn't have belts, because they did. They even had one rather good belt to share among the both of them, and a second one, not quite as nice but certainly passible for special occasions. It was just they didn't want to wear it out, something they'd accidentally done to a similarly nice belt before it, so they didn't wear it unless it was a special occasion, and even then Charlie always made sure his brother got to wear the nicest one. Again, it was his job and he took being the older twin very seriously.

Finally dressed, Charlie crossed the few steps to their door. Yeah, he took being the older twin seriously. That was why he always made sure his brother could get his lie-in. It was his job to protect him and he'd yet to fail at that, a fact he was rather proud of actually.

Cracking open the door, the hinge no longer creaking thanks to a little tweaking and some borrowed oil he'd been able to flinch the night before, Charlie slipped out their shared cupboard. A quiet morning greeting whispered to his brother on his way out. "Morning Harry."

With the door quietly closed behind him, Charlie silently made his way to the familiar Dursley kitchen. While technically it was both of their jobs to make the Dursleys breakfast, Charlie took it upon himself to do it alone. It was a risk, yes, as Aunt Petunia was rather strict about all things, especially chores, however, they'd been getting away with it for nearly three almost four years now. In the end, Aunt Petunia didn't come down to check on them until just before breakfast was to be served, so Harry didn't have to be in the kitchen with him until then.

And luckily, breakfast didn't get served until Dudley was awake. As such their round-turned cousin was sure to do the honors and wake Harry himself. After all, a rousing Dudley was equivalent to a state of being that was about as shattering as an earthquake and as loud as a rock concert at least that's what Charlie assumed.

They'd never actually had an earthquake in Little Surrey. Charlie wasn't entirely sure that was the type of natural disaster that could hit Britain, but he'd read about them. From what he could gather, they sounded pretty cool, dangerous, but cool.

Truthfully, he'd never been to a rock concert either. Well, in all honesty, neither _he_ nor _Harry_ had ever been. Never had the opportunity to go much of anywhere really. The lengths of their adventures starting and ending with the nearby park on the odd afternoon that they finished their chores early enough for them to make the fifteen minute trip and still have enough time to actually enjoy themselves before they had to return back to Privet Drive. But that was okay because they had each other and with each other life was never truly boring.

In the kitchen and ready to get started on the morning meal, Charlie ignored the dining room table hidden beneath a mass of cluttered, brightly colored gifts filling every available space, as he moved the step stool across the floor. Like his brother, Charlie was rather short for his age which in the end meant that most if not everything in the kitchen was outside of his reach.

Which was fine. He'd learned early own how to maneuver atop the uneven step stool. Centering his weight so that it didn't rock back and forth too much. And he really didn't have to worry about too much either. After all, Aunt Petunia normally set out the majority of the pots and pans he might need the night before. She always made sure there wouldn't be any reason for her to come down any earlier then she had to. Which again was just fine with him.

Her ample forethought meant less work for the two of them. Hell, he didn't even have to wonder what to make for breakfast every morning as Aunt Petunia always left a rather detailed list for the menu. He always knew what to cook and how much even if it had taken him some time to figure out how to cook it. Which was all really good and well as it cut down the three areas at which they could be punished for to just the one.

Plucking the morning's breakfast list from the counter by the stove, Charlie noted the longer than average request unsurprised. Today was Dudley's birthday after all. It only made sense that they would be required to make _all_ of their whale of a cousin's favorite foods.

Turning on the farthest two burners first, he was going to need them all eventually but years of practice gave him the foresight to start with the back and make his way to the front, Charlie moved two heavy pans to the stovetop before hopping down and heading to the refrigerator. It was time to get started. Stocked full to the brim, Charlie took only what he needed.

They'd once tried to flinch a few extra sandwiches while the Dursleys slept on but come the next day, they'd been caught. As it turned out, Aunt Petunia kept meticulous records of everything she bought. To include the exact number of bread slices. She could also somehow manage to estimate exactly how many swigs of milk were in the carton which to Charlie seemed rather excessive, but also highly impressive.

As a result, anytime food went missing and Dudley hadn't eaten it, both Charlie and Harry were punished. The normal punishment for a crime like that was several missed meals so they'd decided long ago that it wasn't worth the risk. Charlie was just glad their slightly older cousin was just too dense to lie about eating food, or the larger boy could really make their lives difficult. But of course, this was _Dudley_ he was talking about. The boy had trouble counting _while_ he used his fingers, there was no way he could ever be clever enough to come up with a plan like that.

Heading back to the now hot pans, Charlie set to work. This was _his_ domain, and truthfully, he thought he was actually pretty good at it. Putting the starches down first, they always took the longest to cook, Charlie maneuvered about the kitchen with ease. Pushing his stool back and forth as he grabbed spice after spice, chopping onions, garlic and the like as he moved to drop them into one pan or another, he was in his element.

What could he say? Cooking was actually a lot of fun. It was a science in itself. How finely did he have to chop this or how much of this spice did he have to add to get the best taste, not that he'd ever dare try to taste his work while he cooked. No, that would be the equivalent of suicide. After all, no one ate before Aunt Petunia's little Duddy. No, he'd learned to cook by smell alone, a feat he was rather proud of especially because it made it so he had one more thing he was far better at then Harry.

While Charlie was sure that if given the chance to actually taste what he was making Harry wouldn't be all that bad, that was not their current situation. As it stood, Harry had the worst sense of smell. There was a reason Charlie did most of the cleaning in their little cupboard under the stairs. After all, he did prefer to _not_ sleep in a space that smell of Dudley's old gym socks.

But that was okay because Charlie really didn't need his brother in the kitchen. He loved cooking. It was honestly one of his favorite things to do. So, it was really a win-win for the boys as Harry got a lie-in and Charlie got more practice. And while he only had to make breakfast, Charlie liked to brag that he could make just about any breakfast food there was.

Shifting back to the stove, Charlie turned on two more burners, the pans going on right away as he moved to start the meats. As it was Dudley's birthday, there were far more different types of meats going onto the stove then Charlie was used to. He'd need to use the oven just to keep it all warm. Which worried him a little as that might actually dry the food out.

But Charlie considered himself a culinary genius, he'd figure a way to make sure Dudley didn't notice any difference. After all, in Aunt Petunia's mind, Dudley's opinion was the only one that mattered. That was both a good thing and a bad thing as it lowered the standards for his cooking. Normally he'd turn to Harry after they'd eaten what little portion they were given to figure out just how good the food was. If his brother liked it, then he was satisfied.

Moving his pans about to free up several burners, Charlie started on the last couple of food items. He still had to make two different types of pancakes, toast, three types of eggs and five different sauces. While it wouldn't take long, he was fairly certain Dudley would be up any minute now. After all, their large cousin rarely slept in when there were gifts to be had.

Just as he'd expected, a thundering noise sounded throughout the house a clear sign that Dudley was finally awake. His heavy footsteps loud enough to wake the dead, Charlie was sure Harry would be joining him any minute now. Turning back to the stove, Charlie put his entire focus on trying to finish breakfast. Aunt Petunia would be down soon and she didn't care how early Dudley had gotten up or how much they had to make, if breakfast wasn't ready, then there would be hell to pay.

"Where do you need me?" Harry asked as he shuffled into the kitchen, a yawn escaping his lips as he stretched. Charlie smiled. Yeah, it was certainly a good thing Harry got a few extra minutes to sleep because he was definitely _not_ a morning person.

Turning back to his cooking, Charlie raises a hand, pointing towards the piles of food lining the counters. He didn't need to look to see Harry's nod as he moved to start taking platters into the other room. Harry already knew exactly what Charlie needed him to do without him asking. Sometimes words just weren't needed.

A quick glance over at the already crowded dining room table and Charlie almost wished his brother luck. He'd need all the luck he could get if he was going to figure out how to get all that food onto the table with all those presents. But Charlie knew if there was anyone that could do it, it would be his brother. Harry was always good at solving puzzles and that table looked like one giant, intricate puzzle waiting to be solved.

They worked in comfortable silence. Harry moving platters to the table, somehow always finding a place for it while Charlie finished the last of breakfast. By the time Aunt Petunia had made her way down, Charlie was giving the chocolate sauce one last stir while, Harry placed the last platter on the table.

Silently moving to stand next to his brother by the table, Charlie stood and waited. "Stand up straight," Aunt Petunia ordered sharply as she moved in front of them. Charlie made the regular show of moving about despite the fact that he'd already been standing as straight as he could. If he didn't at least look like he was following her orders then there were sure to be negative consequences to come their way. While _he_ didn't mind the odd punishment she could throw at them, there was no way he was going to risk Harry as well.

The first thing Aunt Petunia did was to come up close to them. Her long thin neck bent down as she shoved her pointed nose into their faces. Charlie didn't dare move. This was the part where she decided if they'd tried to sneak a snack before breakfast, before her little Duddydums. Charlie didn't know how, but she could always tell, even when they'd tried to rinse their mouths out. Her nose was like that of a blood hound. Nothing got past her.

One pat down of their pockets and a quick look into their little cupboard under the stairs and Aunt Petunia was finally satisfied that they hadn't tried to flinch food. Turning around sharply, she moved about stick like legs, eyes like a hawk, as she surveyed the items on the table. Spinning on her heels, she glared at them. "You've forgotten the chocolate sauce," she accused, anger beginning to burn in her eyes.

"It's on the stove, Aunt Petunia," Charlie stated immediately. If he waited too long, then she'd give them a punishment regardless of whether he'd made the item or not. Her sharp eyes met his own and Charlie held her gaze. Looking away would only make her think he was lying.

After a long moment she nodded. "See to it that it makes its way to the table," she ordered before turning back to the table, her long, thin fingers moving to adjust a random platter.

Charlie did his best to not roll his eyes. 'Of course, we couldn't have possibly managed to do this perfectly,' he thought sarcastically. 'Because that would have just been too much.'

Finally satisfied, Aunt Petunia dismissed them so that they could finish. Charlie turned to head back into the kitchen, his eyes meeting his brother's a mirror of brilliant green staring back at him, as he went to grab the chocolate sauce. Words flew between them as they moved about silently, putting the sauce down with the others. Yeah, sometimes she could be a little much they both thought as they stood to the side waiting for the rest of the Dursleys to come down for breakfast.

Uncle Vernon was the next to come down, his large beefy body forcing a groan out of his chair as he sat down. Firmly in his chair, newspaper out and open, it was only then that he glanced up at them. The scowl was immediate as he took them in and Charlie waited for the accompanied statement. A moment passed, the silence filled by Aunt Petunia as she tittered about the room, looking for a place to set the large cake she'd made the night before. And nothing. Uncle Vernon returned back to his paper.

Charlie shrugged. Perhaps he'd finally grown tired of yelling at them for the mess atop their heads. Identical in the shaggy, dark locks, overly long to be considered decent by Uncle Vernon's standards, their hair had a mind of its own. No matter how often their uncle had them get it cut, sometime once a week if the man was feeling particularly grumpy, it always remained the same.

Messy, long and untamable, random locks seemed to stick up all over the place, sweeping low so that the fringe was almost in their eyes. If it wasn't for the identical pair of glasses, wire frames that had a tendency to break, but which were currently still in one piece, Charlie was sure he'd probably go crazy trying to force the hair out of his eyes. But luckily he didn't have to worry about it. And really, their long hair was probably a good thing. After all, he hated it when people stared.

And they normally did if they caught a glimpse of the scar. They both had one, the angry red lines like tattoos on their foreheads. They'd had them for what felt like forever. His, a simple red line above his brow while Harry's was more elaborate. It didn't really resemble anything, maybe some Celtic symbol if he were ever pressed to explain, but none of that mattered because neither scar could really be seen. Not with their hair in the way at least.

The thought of the scars etched into their foreheads reminded Charlie of another scar. Unlike Harry, whose only scar was the odd mark on his head, along with that one burn mark on his arm from the only time Charlie had let him do the cooking, Charlie was nearly riddled with them. Most of them small, the odd cooking burn here or there, the small cuts he'd managed to acquire while witling, he was actually pretty good with his hands, and the one large one.

While he could explain away all of his small scars, accidents happen after all, he could only image where the larger one had come from. Like the scar on his head, he'd had this one, long and jagged across the entirety of his chest, for as long as he could remember. Every once in a while Harry and he would make up stories, grand adventures of events held past or scary stories of horrific tales, to explain the scars away. They'd once toyed with the idea of asking Aunt Petunia, but had tossed the idea away immediately.

Charlie had ever only asked for one thing, and that was to look at their birth certificates. He'd wanted to know what time Harry was born so that they could celebrate properly, but he'd regretted the words the moment they'd left his lips. He still shivered at the look she'd given him, the venom in her stare to only be out done by the words she'd spat at him. Angry words about how useless he was, how useless they both were. Dark words about how they weren't wanted, not even by their parents. Horrid words that still haunted him today.

They had been so bad that he hadn't wanted to tell Harry about them, too sure his younger brother would take those words to heart, but when he'd trudged his way back to their cupboard, he'd known he was too late. With one look, he knew that Harry had heard. How much, he would never know, but he was sure it had been enough. Of course Charlie had done everything in his power to cheer his brother up. After all, what she had to say wasn't true. At least not entirely because they _were_ wanted and loved.

Charlie would always want Harry around and the same was true for the reverse. And eventually, they'd learned that their parents hadn't just abandoned them. They'd died. How, Charlie had never had the courage to ask. But that was okay, because he was sure they hadn't died on purpose. At least, that was what he'd told Harry and what really mattered was what Harry believed.

Pulled from his thoughts by a tug on his arm, Charlie looked up to see all of the Dursleys seated, Dudley already filling up a plate while Aunt Petunia fretted over him. Obviously Dudley had made it down to breakfast sometime while Charlie had been lost in his thoughts. Moving to sit down next to his brother, Charlie waited. The Dursleys always ate first. Hopefully, there would be some left after the bottomless pit that was Dudley had his fill.

Charlie ignored his churning stomach as he watched more and more of the food disappear from the table and into Dudley's mouth. It was a good thing he was use to this routine otherwise he might grow crazy from the sight. The Dursleys might eat all the food while he watched hungry, but that was okay it had happened before and they'd survived. After all, lunch wasn't all that many hours away and they were almost always given that.

Eventually Dudley started to slow, his limited focus shifted more towards the pile of presents sitting in front of him then to filling his ever growing gut. Thankfully, there was still a good deal of food left. Whether that was because Aunt Petunia had had them make far more food than Dudley could eat, or because at some point their large cousin had shifted his focus away from the food and towards his rather large cake, more than half of it had already disappeared into Dudley's mouth, or because Dudley's patience had finally run out and now his only thought was on his presents, Charlie didn't particularly care. When it came to eating at the Dursleys, he found he didn't particularly care about the whys as long as he managed to get enough food for both he and Harry. In his eyes, that was what really mattered.

Another moment passed before Dudley finally gave up on stuffing more food down his nonexistent throat. Like his father, his head seemed to just merge with his body no neck to be seen which seemed to make some sense as to how the boy could eat so much. If Charlie had to guess, he'd say Dudley's body defied biology as his mouth was probably directly connected to his stomach. Harry claimed that was impossible, but every once in a while Charlie would catch a gleam in his brother's eye. That was all he needed to know that his brother secretly believed the same.

Charlie waited a moment longer after Dudley had unofficially finished eating before he ventured forth. First to fill a plate for Harry, then to fill one for himself. Despite the fact that Aunt Petunia only really cared that Dudley was able to eat his fill, that didn't actually stop her from snapping at them if she thought they were eating too much. So after years of trial and error, they finally had a working system.

It was simple. One, stick to the dishes closest to them. Two, never attempt to grab anything overly sweet. And three, perhaps the most important guideline, the fewer hands grabbing for food the better. This was why Charlie was the only one getting food, slowly lifting food from nearby dishes because moving too fast was frowned upon by Aunt Petunia.

Of course, right now Aunt Petunia was more worried about Dudley as he attempted to count his numerous gifts, something he did every year for every holiday, but that didn't mean she wouldn't notice them if they drew too much attention to themselves. But that was okay, Charlie was more than used to this routine to let it bother him.

Sliding Harry's plate to him, the contents piled just a bit higher than he would put on his own but not too high otherwise Harry was known to slip some back to him, Charlie turned to fix his own plate. He ignored the chatter at the other end of the table for the simple reason that he didn't particularly care. Dudley was spoiled. As such Charlie was just counting the minutes until his cousin found some reason to complain. He always did.

Of course the worst part was that it was never enough. Already, Dudley had a whole room filled with toys and gadgets and whatever new thing was out that year. And he had another whole room dedicated to the same objects once he'd broken them. He had more things than he could ever want and yet he still wanted more.

So Charlie couldn't bring himself to really care, he had far better things to worry about anyway. One of those things was attempting take advantage of the situation while it lasted. While before and after breakfast, or any meal really, were horrible times to attempt to flinch some food, during breakfast was the perfect time. Now he couldn't really grab too much or anything too big, but as long as Aunt Petunia was distracted with Dudley, he _could_ grab something.

Normally, it was just a few pieces of toast. Something he could slip into the small wooden box that he'd been able to salvage from Dudley's second bedroom. It would stay there all day, placed there immediately after breakfast during the few minutes Aunt Petunia gave them free before they started on their chores, and they could munch on whatever was in the box before bed. A small night snack to curb whatever hunger might reach them during the night.

Today however Charlie felt bold, sneaking rashers and bacon into a napkin before slipping it into his pocket. Aunt Petunia might smell the food on him, but she probably wouldn't check. After all, if it was after breakfast then Dudley had obviously had his fill.

Focusing the majority of his attention on eating, he couldn't neglect his plate because he could never tell when his Aunt would force them from the table not caring whether they were finished or not, while slowly slipping more food into his pockets, Charlie missed the entire conversation playing out across the table. _He_ certainly didn't care what his cousin got for his birthday. Glancing over to his brother, Charlie noted the rather distracted nature of his movements. Harry continued to eat, but his attention was solely on the other occupants of the table.

Charlie repressed a sigh, sad that he couldn't fulfill his younger brother's every desire. He knew that look. Harry was upset. Probably because Dudley was likely complaining about his presents. Perhaps one was too small, or maybe there weren't enough. Either way, Harry was likely angry that their cousin had the gall to complain at all. After all, they'd never received a present, other than the small handcrafted gifts they managed to get each other, in all the time they'd been with the Dursleys which at this point felt like their entire lives.

Charlie's expression hardened. One day. One day Harry would want for nothing. He would have endless gifts waiting for him on every holiday. All the food he could ever eat. All the books he could read and the puzzles he could play. He would have only the best cloths too. A separate outfit to wear to bed, and anything else he'd had to do without. Charlie would see to it. One day they wouldn't have to live with the Dursleys anymore.

Suddenly a ringing broke out, snapping Charlie from his thoughts as Aunt Petunia got up from the table to go answer it. Charlie looked after her, his thoughts shifting to when he, or Harry, would be the ones getting up from the table to get the phone. It wouldn't be too much longer, he was sure. After all, she had been teaching them the proper way to answer the phone. Apparently there was only one acceptable way to do it and they hadn't mastered it just yet. That was fine. Charlie didn't particularly relish the idea of faking happiness to anyone.

Moving as quickly as he dared, Charlie continued to eat his breakfast as Aunt Petunia stormed back to the table, a dark look on her face. Apparently she'd gotten bad news from that phone call. "Vernon, we've gotten the most horrid news," she said, anger and frustration lacing her words. Charlie turned in her direction without pausing the motion of his fork. He was curious, but he wasn't stupid. Bad news often meant a day in the cupboard. The worst thing he could do right now was stop eating. "Mrs. Figg has broken her leg. She won't be able to watch _them_." She spat the last word as if hating the very taste of it on her lips despite the fact that she hadn't actually said their names.

As silence befell the room, Charlie's heart sank. While he had no real love for Mrs. Figg, her house smelled of boiled cabbage and she had far too many cats for any sane person, going to Mrs. Figg's was always a treat. Well, treat was probably the wrong word. Going to Mrs. Figg's was more of an escape.

Mrs. Figg was old. So old that she really only had enough energy to take up about an hour of their time which she preferred to spend looking at pictures of her cats. But the rest of the time, that was what Charlie looked forward to. It was hours upon hours of just he and Harry. Making up stories and going on adventures, Mrs. Figg's cats willing participants in their fun. It was nice to just play. No worries. No chores. And though the biscuits were often stale and lunch was always some cabbage dish, they were always fed until they were completely full. Charlie kind of liked it there.

Turning to glance over at his brother, Charlie noted that Harry apparently did not feel the same. There was a spark in his eyes, hidden behind the frames of his glasses, but there nonetheless. Clearly, Harry was excited by the prospect of possibly being taken on whatever birthday trip the Dursleys had planned for Dudley. Which didn't really surprise him. After all, Harry had always wanted to go on a real adventure, somewhere new and interesting just for the experience if nothing else.

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia questioned with a huff, her angry eyes landing first on Charlie then turning to glare at Harry, as if it was their fault the old woman had broken her leg. Last time Charlie checked, old people did that type of thing all the time, on their own, without help from most outside forces. They were _old_. That was like half of the definition. He was sure. It went something like this: old equals frail equals easily breakable, enough said.

"What about Marge? We could always phone my sister," Uncle Vernon suggested, but Charlie thought that wouldn't go over so well with Aunt Petunia. If she thought that would have worked, then she would have offered that as a solution.

"Don't be silly, Vernon. She hates them." Charlie almost nodded with that statement even though the Dursleys spoke around them as if they weren't in the room that too was a normal occurrence that he was more than use to. However, that feeling of dislike was definitely mutual.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend, ah, Yvonne?"

"I've told you before, she's still on vacation in Majorca," Aunt Petunia snapped back, her frustration obviously mounting.

"You could always leave us here," Charlie piped up. That would probably be the best plan. They could have the run of the house. Maybe sneak in some time watching the television or raid Dudley's second bedroom for interesting broken toys he wouldn't miss. Between the two of them, Harry with the mechanical side and he with the craft side, they should be able to fix just about anything, eventually. It could be fun.

But of course Aunt Petunia hated that idea too. Her beady eyes narrowing even further as she glared death at him. "I won't have you ruin my house," she snarled, a fist clinching at her side.

She looked mad enough to kill, so Charlie wisely dropped the defense he'd had at the ready. Aunt Petunia was the one person in this household that could actually make their lives hard. They'd learned long ago not to push her.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," she began. Charlie could almost feel the hope rising in his brother, but he waited. There was always another shoe that could drop. "…and leave them in the car," she finished. However before Charlie could be sad on his brother's behalf, Uncle Vernon spoke up first.

"That's a new car. I'll not have the two of them sitting in there alone so they can mess it up."

At that turn of the conversation two things happened. One, Dudley realized that there was a real possibility that both Harry and he would be tagging along to his little birthday event. And two, Harry realized that there was a very real possibility that they'd be tagging along. The result was at once very annoying, as Dudley started in on his favorite tactic, fake crying, and great, as Harry looked at him, green eyes lit in real excitement.

At first Charlie wasn't entirely sure which emotion he should latch onto. Dudley was known to throw a pretty wild temper tantrum which always ended in him getting his way. But Harry was his brother and anything that brought Harry happiness also somehow brought Charlie some too. Despite knowing that if Dudley's tantrum went on long enough they wouldn't be going, Charlie decided to throw caution to the wind and join his brother in his excitement.

Luck was probably on their side because not a moment later amongst Aunt Petunia's sputtering attempts to calm her little Duddydums down the doorbell rang.

"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" she cried frantically as she ran a hand down her dress. It was like music to his ears. Charlie glanced down at his plate to hurriedly finish his breakfast only to notice that he was already done. A grin plastered to his face, he turned to his brother. Not only had they been given enough time to finish their breakfast, but now they were going to the zoo. It was definitely going to be an awesome day.

* * *

Less than an hour later Harry and Charlie were hanging back, far enough away from the Dursleys and Dudley's rat faced friend Piers Polkiss but close enough so that they wouldn't be _accidentally_ left behind, and enjoying lemon ice pops. It may have been the cheapest ice cream the rather nice vender had to offer, gotten only because the lady had spoken to them while the Dursleys were getting Dudley and Piers the largest chocolate monstrosity they had to offer, however, they each had one of their own.

It was a nice day. The sun was out and shining brightly. There were families upon happily little families crowded into the tight space, all fairly nice people if their constant smiles were anything to go on. And they had already seen so many cool exhibits. Charlie was really starting to think that Harry had been right to be excited, although there was no way he was going to admit that aloud. Harry didn't need an even bigger head just because he'd been right about this _one _thing.

Even Uncle Vernon's threat to be on their best behavior given before they'd even left the house couldn't put a damper on this outing, and not just because Charlie knew the man couldn't stick to a punishment to save his life. He wasn't Aunt Petunia, he didn't have the best of memories. Even _if_ they managed to get in trouble, Uncle Vernon would forget their punishment halfway through and then it would be back to business as usual. There was just no way he could keep them in that cupboard until Christmas. Neither one of the elder Dursleys wanted to wake up early enough to make breakfast.

And they really were having a great time, way better than if they'd have stayed with Mrs. Figg. Seeing all kinds of things that were bound to make their own imagined adventures twice as fun. And the best part was that they could almost pretend they weren't even here with the Dursleys. They were their own little family, just like it had always been. They didn't mess with the Dursleys and the Dursleys seemed happy for it.

The only time they'd really been forced to interact was at lunch time and that was actually kind of fun. They got to eat at the zoo restaurant which was really cool because it was the first time either he or Harry had been to a restaurant. And even though they'd had to share the cheapest item on the menu, it was still pretty exciting.

And of course the best part of the whole thing had been when Dudley had thrown one of his famous tantrums. Charlie only knew what it was about because they'd gotten to share what was left of their cousin's ice cream when he'd gotten a new one. Charlie wasn't sure what was wrong with the first one, but he didn't particularly care. Again, it didn't really matter why as long as he got to eat it.

Of course he had let Harry eat the majority of it, his brother seemed to enjoy the treat far more than Charlie ever could so he couldn't complain. All in all it had been a terrific morning. A full breakfast, a trip to the zoo, _two_ things of ice cream, what did he have to complain about?

Of course that should have been his tipping point. He really should have known that life can't be _that_ good for _that_ long. But then again, no one _plans_ for the kind of thing that happened to them next.

Not too long after lunch, they made their way to the reptile house. The dark, cool atmosphere was a welcome break to the slowly growing heat. Charlie had poked his brother as they passed one lit window after another. Even behind the glass, the lizards and snakes were pretty cool, slithering and crawling over the bits and pieces of their habitats. Harry had made a comment about the different habitats, something that he'd read in what little leisure time they had. Really, Charlie would have been listening better if it hadn't been for Dudley and Piers.

The two boys were making a huge ruckus, shouting ohhs and ahhs with obnoxious glee as they searched for the largest snake in the exhibit. Attention firmly caught, Charlie turned to his brother to point out the rather impressive sight. "Would you look at that, Harry? Think he could wrap around Uncle Vernon's new car a couple times?" he asked pointing to the fast asleep reptile.

"Maybe once or twice," his brother replied. Charlie nodded absentmindedly. Harry was probably right, after all Uncle Vernon's new vehicle could fit seven people pretty comfortably.

They both stood at a distance as Dudley pressed his nose into the glass. Clearly, their cousin wasn't happy with just letting the animal sleep.

"Make it move," Dudley whined to his father. He needn't say anything more before Uncle Vernon acquiesced, tapping lightly against the glass. Son, father and friend stood transfixed as they watch the snake intently looking for any sign of movement. It didn't move.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered unhappy that anyone let alone this snake had the gall to ignore him. Again without complaint Uncle Vernon knocked on the glass, the sound several times louder than before. But still, the snake snoozed on, uninterested in anything other than its nap.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned as he scowled at the snake before shuffling away.

Charlie waited a moment longer, just long enough for the Dursleys to find a different section of the exhibit, before pushing Harry over to the tank.

"No need to push, Charlie," Harry complained as he brushed himself off before turning to look intently into the tank.

"Sorry," Charlie spoke absentmindedly, more of a reflex than anything sincere. "Man, he looks kind of lonely in there."

"Yeah, it can't be fun having idiots like the Dursleys tapping on his home all the time."

"I know. It's a shame too because he probably has such a hard time getting his nap in."

"Yeah, that and he's just stuck in here. Not much more than a small pond, some rocks and a small tree to entertain himself."

"Shame _he_ doesn't have a twin too. Then he wouldn't be so lonely."

Suddenly the snake was awake. Its yellow eyes opening lazily as it slowly rose its head until its eyes were level with the twins. Charlie stared at it curious about what it would do. It had been so quiet for the Dursleys, but that could have been because they were annoying. Shrugging, Charlie returned his focus to the snake.

It _winked_.

Charlie rubbed at his eyes, lifting his glasses to get to them before turning to his brother. Their eyes met a question shared among them: _did you see that?_ Together they shared a nod before turning back to the snake. They weren't going insane. How could they if they'd _both_ seen it? So Charlie took the next logical step, sure his brother was doing the same, and winked right back at it.

Strangely enough that didn't seem to be the end of this odd encounter. No, with a jerk towards the Dursleys, safely on the other side of the exhibit, the snake raised its eyes to the ceiling before turning back to them. Almost as if they were all on the same wave length, Charlie and Harry glanced at each other at the same time. That look didn't need a lot of work to interpret. Clearly, it was an _'I get that all the time'_ kind of look which the twins whole heartedly agreed.

"I know," both Charlie and Harry said at the same time. "That must get really annoying," Charlie continued talking directly to the snake through the glass, though he couldn't be certain if he could be heard or not.

Obviously he'd been heard if the snake's vigorous nodding was anything to go by. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked. Charlie smiled. That was just like his brother. Asking all the nerdy questions.

Lazily, the snake moved its tail until the tip was pointed towards the little sign next to the glass. Charlie's smile turned into a smirk as they peered down at it. Harry was surely kicking himself for missing something so obvious.

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil_ the sign read. Charlie glanced up from the plaque to question their newest friend. He was curious. "So, was it really nice there?" he asked before Harry poked him in the arm, pointing back at the sign with far more sass than was necessary. He wasn't an idiot. He just didn't always have the patience to read the entire thing. Shrugging, Charlie read on: _This specimen was bred in the zoo_. "Oh, well that kind of sucks," he added before looking back up at the snake. "I guess you've never actually been to Brazil then?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind them made the oddly formed trio jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!" Piers yelled across the way.

In all the grace of a mother duck, Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could manage with his size. "Out of the way," he said hotly, the presence of his friend and his ever doting parents giving him the gall to break their long standing understanding as he pushed Harry out of the way.

Caught by surprise, Charlie watched helplessly as his brother was thrown back, landing hard enough against the cold concrete floor to throw his glasses from his face. What happened next was a blur as Charlie saw red. No one pushed his brother around, no one. Holding himself back, he couldn't afford to confront Dudley now, not here out in the open, Charlie's glare felt like he'd burned a whole into his cousin as he moved to help his brother up. Angry, Charlie barely noticed that one second Piers and Dudley were leaning heavily against the glass, then the next, they had fallen through, landing awkwardly in a heap of limbs as they screamed in horror.

Charlie frowned as he helped his brother sit up. The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. Their newest friend moved to uncoil itself, moving rapidly as it slithered out onto the floor, the edge of its tail flicking over the still fallen duo. Charlie would have laughed at the high pitched squeal that had likely originated from their cousin, however as the snake fled the scene, nearly every person residing in the reptile house decided that _now_ was the perfect time to scream and run mindlessly towards the exits. If he didn't act fast, Harry's glasses would be gone in a crunch of glass and black wire.

With a giant push, Charlie leaped from his place beside his brother diving down towards the black frames in his attempt to save them. While he was too small to stop people from stepping on him, he did manage to get his hands over the glasses. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too broken.

Charlie looked up as the snake slid past him, Harry stumbling around as he made his way to his side. That was weird. He could have sworn he'd heard a low hissing voice, the words '_Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, amigosss'_ clear as day. Shrugging, he'd have to ask Harry about it. He was close enough to have heard it too.

"What's the damage," his brother asked him as he plopped down beside him.

Charlie gulped, hesitantly opening his bruised hands to see the state of his brother's glasses. "Ah, well, you can always use mine until the Dursleys get around to taking us to get new ones," Charlie stated, avoiding the question altogether. The black frames were bent, twisted in a way that Charlie was afraid they'd break altogether if he tried to fix it, and there was a large crack in the glass on the left side. Despite the fact that they definitely didn't wear the same prescription glasses, Harry was as blind as a bat, there was no way Harry would be able to wear his own glasses.

"What, really?" Harry asked already reaching out for his own glasses to assess the damage. A deep sigh left him as his finger traced the black frames. "Give me your glasses too, maybe it's not as bad as it seems?"

Reluctant to fulfill that request, Charlie slipped his glasses off with one hand, sliding the frames onto his brother's face. "You're not going to like what you see," he warned already cringing before Harry could push the frames in place.

"Oh." The disappointment was clear in his voice.

"I know, but don't worry. My glasses remember," Charlie replied quickly, tapping the side of his frames resting upon his brother's face.

"Yeah, but if I'm wearing your glasses then we'll both have trouble seeing."

"Well, think of it this way. Now our eye sight will be equally as bad."

Sighing, Harry glanced over towards the Dursleys, Charlie's eyes followed. From this far away, he could just make out their hazily images. Two large, round forms, one large than the other, and two skinny, wiry forms. They fussed with each other as a strange man, likely the keeper of the reptile house, came over to talk to them. This was really bad.

"I just wish," Harry began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish that we didn't have to deal with them. That we could have just one good day without something going terribly wrong."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Charlie replied before moving to stand. "Come on, Harry. I think they're about ready to leave," he added as he extended his hand, helping his brother to his feet. "We'll figure out what to do about your…" Charlie paused, surprise filling his features as he glanced down to the frames in Harry's left hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked, when Charlie failed to continue.

"Ah, look," he stated, grabbing the glasses out of his brother's hand to bring them closer to his eyes. There as if by magic, Harry's glasses were fixed, well, mostly fixed. The black wire frames were still a little bent, but not to such an extreme degree. And the crack in the lens was gone, no hint that it had ever been there.

Harry squinted at the frames with a look of confusion, hesitantly moving to put them on his face. With a shaky hand as if he couldn't believe their luck, Harry placed them on his face. Fixing the little bend as he swapped glasses, Harry passed Charlie back his own as they huddled close together.

"What do you think…" Charlie began, but Harry shook his head.

"Let's not question it," Harry stated as he pulled Charlie in the direction of the Dursleys. There were now more people on the scene. It wouldn't be long now before they left.

True to his thoughts, it wasn't long before they were packed away in Uncle Vernon's car, the zoo director having apologized profusely even going so far as to offer a yearlong membership to the zoo. All was going as well as could be expect until Piers had to open his big mouth.

"The twins were talking to it. I saw it for sure," the rat faced boy confessed, calculating eyes drifting to the back where the two sat.

Charlie fumed. He'd never liked Piers and he was sure the feeling was mutual, but he'd been sure that the other boy would follow Dudley's lead and leave them alone. Clearly, Charlie had underestimated the boy's cunning. He'd have to find some time to rectify that. One way or another.

Charlie tuned the rest of the ride out, sure that Uncle Vernon would wait until after Piers was gone before yelling. Sure enough, Piers was out the door and on his way home when Uncle Vernon nearly exploded.

"UNNATURAL!" he yelled, his face rapidly growing red as it shook with emotion. "Go to your cupboard!" he continued, Aunt Petunia moving to rub his back in an attempt to calm him down. "And stay there!" he finished before collapsing in his chair.

Harry and Charlie complied readily. This was a request that was easy to fulfill. Shut inside their cupboard, the naked light bulb filling the space with a warm glow, Charlie collapsed on to their shared bed.

"I guess it's a good thing I was able to score so much food at breakfast," he stated as Harry dropped down next to him. A sentence to their cupboard was always accompanied by an extended period of no meals, but Charlie wasn't worried. This had happened before and he was sure the Dursleys would at least get tired of doing their own chores eventually. After all, Aunt Petunia _had_ to feed them in order for them to work. They couldn't work half starved, she'd tried that already.

Charlie would give it two days before Uncle Vernon caved or forgot. And they weren't likely to starve in that time. Especially not when they'd at least get lunch come Monday. Aunt Petunia couldn't very well send them to primary without a lunch. Not without the risk of raising suspicions. And if they waited to eat their breakfast haul until tomorrow, Sunday, they'd be just fine.

"You going to join me?" Harry asked, raising one of his books up as an indicator.

"Yeah," Charlie replied simply as his brother passed him one of their few books. They settled into their spot, ready to read until they got too tired. 'Yeah, we'll be just fine,' Charlie thought as he opened the page, his mind wandering to more pressing issues like reminding Dudley exactly why he wasn't to mess with them. Harry might frown at his tactics, but if they got the job done, well, Charlie would do anything to protect Harry. He was all the family Charlie had. Turning his attention back to his book, Charlie decided that he wouldn't let Dudley sleep on it. He'd take care of this little problem tonight. After Harry went to sleep of course.

* * *

**AN:** So, that's chapter one. Hope it was interesting. (Although I'm not to overly concerned, I find that if I find something interesting, that's all that really matters.) Feed back is always welcome. Flames give me a good laugh as I can consider the flamer's incompetence. And a hello is always nice. As for the next chapter, it will be up in two weeks. See you than!

KJ

_PS._ Did you know we (BR and I) consider non twins singlittes? Yes, it's a thing. Although I don't know if any other group of twins thinks the same. (Still not sure how you singlittes survive childhood, but I see the proof everyday...)

_PSS._ (Yes, I just make those things up. I figure you add 'p' and 's' and you get something.) From time to time we'll have a twin corner down here.

-singlittes (non-twins), how you guys grew up is beyond me, but singlittes survive all the time..


	3. Chapter Two

**_Chapter Two: Well that's normal, mostly_**

Harry glared at the dark sky above him as he continued the slow motion of his paddle. He was up at an ungodly hour. The moon still high in the early morning sky, stars bright and twinkling while the sun still slept on the other side of the horizon. No one should have to get up _this_ early. For god's sake, the birds weren't even out, and those were the creatures that seemed to like to get up at the crack of dawn.

Of course it made sense that not even the birds were out at a time like this. After all, the sun wasn't due to come up for at least another hour. Any sane person would take that as their cue to go back to bed, but that just wasn't in the cards for him.

Okay, so maybe he'd been spoiled. After all, he was well aware that Charlie was the best big brother any twin could ask for. If it wasn't for Charlie, he'd been an ornery, grumbling mess every morning. Too grumpy to engage in any meaningful conversation.

Thankfully, Harry didn't normally have to worry about that. After all, Charlie always let him sleep in. Always let him get a couple of more minutes of sleep whenever he could. It was just one of the many little things that his brother did for him. Like letting him have more food, even if he didn't know Harry was on to him. Or making bullies go away. All of these things Harry had come to associate with what made a big brother. At the very least, they were what made Charlie the best big brother ever.

So yeah, Harry knew he was spoiled. And there was little he could do about it, but try to return the favor whenever _he_ could. So, Harry always made sure to do the things his brother didn't like to do. Like cleaning out the toilets or taking out the garbage. It wasn't like those things bothered him too much. His sense of smell really wasn't all that strong. Which he really didn't mind because it gave him one more thing that he was better at then his brother. After all, _he _wasn't likely to pass out if their cleaning chemicals were a bit too strong. And to be honest, with the way Dudley ate, they really did need the strongest of chemicals to clean out _his_ toilet.

That was his thing. He found a way to make his brother smile or laugh when he was in one of his moods. He kept him focus on the here and now when Charlie let his thoughts take him away from reality. He kept him grounded, attempting to do the little things, small things that were sure to cheer his brother up. Little thank you's like retrieving old football jerseys he'd found in the garbage near their primary school and washing it up to get rid of at least some of the smell before giving it to his brother.

Those were the types of things he did. And unfortunately, they did not include getting up before four in the morning. Really, no one should have to get up at a time like that. He was actually pretty certain that _Charlie_ didn't get up that early and his brother was the earliest of risers that he'd ever known. Of course, he didn't actually know all that many people, but he was sure that only the insane would get up before his brother.

Despite the fact that he distasted every slowly churning, dark minute of the morning, he was still up and here. Had been up for nearly an hour and a half now actually. Now, Harry was more than aware that if Charlie could, he'd have let Harry sleep in as long as possible, but unfortunately that wasn't a possibility, at least not today. No, today they were up well before the need to make breakfast because if they didn't have their uniforms dyed by the time Aunt Petunia awoke, there'd be hell to pay. And while Uncle Vernon couldn't remember a punishment to save his life, Aunt Petunia had no such problem.

So to avoid spending the rest of the summer under Aunt Petunia's oppressive thumb, Harry was sadly awake and working outside with his brother, elbow deep in gray dye. To his right, his brother was working elbow deep in grayish water. One glance of which told Harry that it would need to be changed soon, but Harry would let Charlie do it.

Now, it wasn't that he was lazy, sure he liked a lie-in just as much as the next chap, but for whatever reason Charlie actually liked that type of excursion. Whether it was because his brother fancied himself training, to be a footballer or to improve the intimidation tactics that Charlie thought Harry didn't know about, or because he felt like he was lessening the load for him, Harry wasn't entirely sure. However, that was beside the point. The point was Charlie loved doing any and all heavy lifting he could get his hands on, that bucket of water included. So, as odd as it seemed, Harry was going to let his brother do it. It was a little thing, but it was all he could give him.

As if on cue Charlie got up to go change the bucket of gray water. He'd have to walk around the house, so as not to cause flooding in the back yard, but again Harry knew his brother didn't mind. It wasn't like he'd have to go too far. After all, there was a drain near the street not too far from the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive. It wouldn't take Charlie long to dump the water and make his way back.

Paddling harder as he continued the dyeing process, Harry scowled at his own bucket. If anyone was to see the amount of work they were doing just to dye some old clothes, then they'd think the Dursleys were on the heels of destitution. So desperate to save money that they were forced to repurpose hand-me-downs just to survive.

And it wasn't like this was easy work either. No, the whole process relied on Harry constantly stirring the cloths as they dyed while Charlie moved to rinse the excess dye before hanging the stretched fabric on the cloths-line. They had two large yellow buckets to work with, which was great because it meant that they had one for dyeing and one for the rinsing. They'd be able to get the whole process done in one go rather than dye the whole lot then go back and rinse them, hoping beyond hope that they hadn't ruined the cloth in the process.

And really, the whole process would have gone by much faster if they'd had two paddles instead of this one old wooden one to work with. And unfortunately that meant that one of them would have to do the work by hand. As logic dictated that job fell to Charlie, though Harry secretly believed his brother would have given him the paddle even if it wasn't the most logical choice, as Harry was in charge of the dyeing. After all, it would be nearly impossible to get that stench off his hands before breakfast if he had to plunge them in the foul gray dye.

And of course that meant Charlie was washing out the gray with only the extra protection of his pair of gloves, which were a cheery yellow like the buckets they used. At least the gloves use to be cheery. Now they were partially stained gray, the color far more dulled than Harry was used to seeing.

Harry winched as another splay of the gray water splashed his brother's shirt. They really should have done the job shirtless, because splashing water was starting to dye Charlie's clothes as well. But he knew how cold his brother could get, and this early in the morning, even in the middle of the summer holiday, it was _still_ rather chilly.

Of course the damage could have been avoided if his brother could just remember to go slowly, to limit the amount of splashing to the confines of the bucket, however, his brother didn't always remember. Well, it was less that he didn't remember, and more that he didn't have the patience. Charlie had a pretty hard time waiting, especially if he couldn't see the results of his labor instantly. He was very much an instant gratification type of bloke.

Harry glanced over at his brother as he paused in his work. Yeah, that shirt was definitely ruined. Of course, the bucket and gloves weren't much better, but unlike the shirt, _they_ were going to have to be salvaged. They'd need to find some time, probably after they'd completed all of their regular chores, to clean the dye out of both buckets, the paddle and each set of gloves thoroughly. They were their only set for cleaning and Aunt Petunia would pitch a fit if they got dye anywhere in her precious house.

Harry carefully measured out more of the dyeing ingredients before starting the next uniform. Despite the fact that he hated being up this early and wasn't too fond of being nearly elbow deep in gray dye, he was actually kind of enjoying himself. Of course that probably had more to do with the science behind the activity and less the activity itself, but that was okay. Harry liked to find the good in every situation, the silver lining, because there always was one. And if he was being honest, dyeing these uniforms was like a little science project.

As part of the Science club in primary, although he'd never been able to join them at any of their competitions, he was more than equip to run this experiment. And it really was an experiment. He could even follow all the steps of the scientific method they'd learned just this year. He'd asked the question and done background research, figuring out how to dye cloths from reading several books at their local library. He'd made an assertion, a type of hypothesis, on what would be the best method for them to use. He'd written out the procedure ahead of time, even going so far as to use his best hand-writing even though he knew he would really be the only one reading it. After all, Charlie wasn't the biggest fan of trying to decipher his writing.

Now was like the experiment portion of his little scientific endeavor. While he probably wouldn't be writing a report on his findings, he enjoyed doing it. So obviously, Charlie let him lead in things like this. Of course now that he thought about it, he _should_ complete the whole scientific process and write a report. After all, they'd never know when they might need to dye something else. Having the process as well as a written explanation on the success rate might actually be helpful.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as the smell got to his nose. Obviously, he taken too deep of a breath while he was off in his own little world. And the smell was really something awful. Lucky for them a nice breeze was blowing on this god awful early morning. He might not want to be awake, but at least they didn't have to suffer too badly.

Harry looked down at the yellow bucket as Charlie dumped their next uniform in it. Separating the dyeing and the washing had been a sound plan. The work went by far faster than if they'd tried to do it any other way, but that really didn't change the facts. Frowning as he began to stir his paddle again, Harry distasted the fact that they'd been forced to do this for no good reason.

Really, they shouldn't have had to do this at all. The Dursleys were not destitute, or anywhere close. They could have easily bought the twins a single set of second hand uniforms for only a few pounds more than the cost of the dyeing materials. But none of that mattered, because while the Dursleys had pounds to spare, the Potters did not. Harry and Charlie together didn't have two one penny pieces to rub together. So here they were, dyeing their school uniform.

"At least we'll have more than one set," Charlie spoke good-naturally into the silence. Harry smiled lightly at his brother. He always seemed to know when he was down. Always seemed to know the right thing to say to lift his spirits. And he _was_ right. They would have more than two uniforms to share. Already, they were on the fifth uniform of the morning and they still had three more to go.

Though he hated to admit it, it really was all thanks to Aunt Petunia. She had made them clean out Dudley's old clothes. And as they'd worked, they'd been instructed to get a few for their school uniforms, while the rest was to be given away. Tax write off of course, the Dursleys never did anything unless there was something in it for them. So, out of the loads of clothes Dudley had either out grown, wide of course, or gotten tired of, there had only been four sets a piece that would work for the school uniform. Stonewall High was the local public school and while their standards weren't _that _high, they did have standards for their uniforms.

Harry's smile turned into a grunt of appreciation. It may have been a small thing to be thankful for, but he was always grateful for the things his brother did, at least he tried to be, even if it was still far too early for any sane person to be completely functional.

"And don't forget we'll not have to deal with the likes of Dudley. That's got to be a plus too."

Harry nodded at the statement, keeping his focus on the dyeing cloths in his bucket while Charlie did most of the talking. While Dudley and his goons generally left them alone at school, something that Harry was sure had more to do with Charlie and his less than savory tactics than their cousin's kind heart, Dudley was still a pain. He was a bully plain and simple, intimidating the majority of their primary school until he had the general population under his thumb. While he didn't accost them physically, he had made it impossible for them to make friends. No one was willing to risk the wrath of Dudley just to talk to the Potter twins. Harry thought it was a good thing their cousin was going to Smeltings instead.

"Oh, there must be loads of things you're looking forward to in secondary," Charlie continued, happily receiving half of the uniform they'd been working on so he could begin his rinsing process.

Even in his haze of exhaustion Harry took the question seriously. "Yeah," he began slowly, attempting to articulate his thoughts as best as possible. "We'll get to have friends, real friends," he continued, blinking the last remainders of sleep from his eyes as he turned to his brother. "That might be nice."

Already insanely full of energy, Charlie bumped his shoulder, a wide grin spread across his face. "Oi, what am I? Chopped liver?" Harry laughed softly at the comment, glad that his brother could always take a serious conversation and brighten it. Sometime levity was what was needed. "No, I know what you mean. I'm looking forward to it too." Charlie stopped for a moment, his grin growing as he stared impishly at Harry. "You know, I hear girls are supposed to get even _prettier_ than they already are."

Harry laughed again, his mood drastically improved. God, Charlie made even getting up at this heinous hour fun. "Like you need help with girls?" Harry shot good-naturedly. For whatever reason Charlie was horridly good with the opposite sex. Well, Charlie was just good with people in general. It was almost as if Charlie had soaked up all their really personal traits leaving Harry the rather awkward one when faced with new people while Charlie charmed the pants off of them.

With enough charm to cover the both of them, it probably also helped that his brother was also a rather good footballer. As it seemed in England, at least their little section here in Surrey, everyone liked a good footballer.

Of course that wasn't really a bad thing. Especially because Charlie was so good at it. As it was, the coach for the club team his brother was on now made it seem like Charlie had the potential to be _really_ good. Like maybe professional level good. So it came as no surprise that this summer they'd spent any and all free time scourging for footballer supplies for Charlie and training. While they couldn't afford for Charlie to go to any of the tournaments, they didn't let that stop them from their dreams. Change was just around the corner, especially when it came to secondary.

Harry smiled quietly to himself as he remembered the thickly circled date for the tryouts. Charlie had been so excited to finally have the official date that he'd nearly raced back to their cupboard that day, attacking their makeshift calendar, really just some sheets of paper that Charlie had drawn like a calendar book and given as a Christmas gift to Harry, with so much gusto that the day was almost blacked out. And Harry had been excited for him. After all, Coach had said that if Charlie practiced enough, there'd be extra money for kids like them, who couldn't pay the fees.

So obviously, Harry had done everything in his power to help his brother. In the end, that just meant that they practiced whenever they could, giving the football Charlie had patched up, the original broken ball a present from Harry, the workout of its life. Thinking about Charlie's rather worn football, Harry frowned. As much as his brother loved that ball, mostly because it had been Harry's Christmas gift to Charlie, a gift he could fix up just one of the things his brother loved to do, that football wasn't going to be able to last long enough to see Charlie through secondary, or just this upcoming year really. Not with the amount of practice they'd been doing.

Harry was going to have to figure something out. It was the least he could do even if he wasn't actually that big a fan of football. He wasn't exactly horrible. In fact he thought he made a pretty decent practice partner. It was just, he'd rather do something else. But that didn't really matter. After all, what was the point of having a twin if you didn't automatically have a willing practice partner? Besides, he really did believe his brother could go pro. It wasn't just an aspiration, but a way out. Not his only way out as Charlie was smart enough do something else if he liked, but definitely the way Charlie wanted to go.

Harry nodded briefly to himself as he placed the next uniform into his bucket. No, Charlie was definitely not some muscle head jock. In fact if it hadn't been for his brother, their grades wouldn't have been nearly as great as they were now.

Yeah, Charlie had pushed where Harry would have just given in because honestly Harry didn't like conflict. And back in Year Two of primary, when they'd first started to get real grades, growing conflict had been the name of the game, especially as it became apparent that they were smarted then Dudley. The Dursleys had been hard enough on them before that little revelation, but really that was nothing compared to after.

Sometime, Harry would give anything to go back to that level of treatment from their relatives, but that type of thinking never lasted long. They couldn't be in clubs with marks worse than Dudley. They'd probably have a tough time if they even got marks the same as their large cousin. And had it been left up to Harry, he would have been alright with that, ready to start failing tests just to avoid the punishments.

However, Charlie hadn't let them, hadn't let _him_. School was _their_ place. It was their escape. It didn't matter what the Dursleys did outside of it. They couldn't make them pretend to be stupid just because Dudley wasn't smarter than a box of rocks. The Dursleys couldn't make them jeopardize their future.

And of course Charlie hadn't left it at that. It wasn't enough to just not fail tests. No, his brother pushed him, pushed the both of them really so that in the end Harry always ended up trying his hardest on every assignment. And although he'd never tell his brother, as Charlie had a tendency to gloat excessively when he was right, Harry truly believed that Charlie had done the right thing. Especially now that the Dursleys have forgone all forms of punishment due to marks. Now, they mostly just pretended like their scores didn't exist.

So, yeah. Harry was looking forward to secondary. He'd join a couple more clubs. He was really thinking about chess club and maybe philosophy that type of deep thinking seemed invigorating. They'd be able to focus so much more on their school activities now that the Dursleys' entire attention would be pointed elsewhere. Harry could just imagine it now. This would be _their_ time. Finally, they'd be able to _really_ shine.

Fully awake, Harry turned to his brother so that they would really begin discussing life at secondary. The dyeing went by quickly as conversation flowed, hopes and dreams floating on the cool morning air. Finally, their chore done, Harry watched his brother retreat into the kitchen, moving to start breakfast as fast as he could so that they could get it out on the table by the time Dudley awoke.

Harry nodded quietly to himself as he set the clothes out to dry. Secondary would surely be a different experience. An experience he didn't plan to waste, because if he did well enough, he could get a scholarship to University. And _that_ was his way out.

* * *

As Harry set out the breakfast platters, he could hear the sharp steps of his Aunt Petunia. Her face craned around the room, looking for anything out of order. Harry, more than familiar with this routine, was unbothered. She'd poke and prod and 'fix' the things that weren't right. And of course something was always wrong, but Harry was more than confident today. She could look all she wanted, but not even the ever meticulous Aunt Petunia could find fault with this table setting.

As predicted, she found nothing. Instead her nose wrinkled into something unpleasant. "What is that smell?" she snapped, turning to glare down at him over an upturned nose.

Harry knew there was no good reply to that but he couldn't help himself. He was cranky and sleep deprived from his early morning wake up and unfortunately for all involved that usually meant his tongue was a bit looser than was probably good for his health. "The uniforms, Aunt Petunia."

"And you brought that smell inside?" she snipped, beady eyes hot with anger as they attempted to burrow holes into his head. "How _stupid_ are you?"

While he knew the best course of action was to remain silent, he was just grumpy enough to fall for that trap. It also probably didn't help that she'd called him stupid. There were a lot of stupid people residing in this house, all baring the same surname of Dursley, but he was _not_ one of them. "It must have clung to our clothes," he replied, just barely restraining his temper as his anger grew at the thought of _why_ they'd spent the last several hours elbow deep in gray dye.

"I don't care _how_ it got in here. Or _why_ it's here," Aunt Petunia began, rage coating her tone like a second skin. "All I know is that it better be _gone_ before my Dudders gets down here. I will _not_ have that smell interrupting his digestion."

The words were on the tip of his tongue waiting and willing to be unleashed upon Aunt Petunia. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Fortunately for the both of them, Charlie chose that moment to enter the dining room, sliding right up next to Harry as he spoke before Harry could stuff his foot any further in his mouth. While he knew his brother wouldn't glare at him while their aunt was in the room, Harry could feel it nonetheless. What could he say? He was cranky. And when he was cranky, he often forgot his much better judgment.

By the next moment, Aunt Petunia was gone from the room and Charlie had finally relented to his first instinct to chastise. Shaking his head at Harry as he pulled off his clothes for Harry to take to the wash. Harry would have to do this since Charlie was still a little behind.

Moving to complete the task, it didn't take long for Harry to switch out their dye splattered clothes with fresh ones. Pulling his replacement shirt on before heading back to the kitchen to give his brother his own change of clothes, Harry briefly eyed the dye stained shirt momentarily contemplating keeping it on just to spite Aunt Petunia. Sighing as he discarded the idea, passing the change of clothes to his brother in the process, Harry lamented the fact that he just couldn't risk it. They'd been on such a short leash since the zoo incident that he was sure even the smallest act of defiance would result in them living the rest of the summer under an Aunt Petunia thumb, up to their chins in trouble.

Freshly changed and breakfast placed on the table, Aunt Petunia came back right behind Dudley. Immediately, she wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Good. That could only mean he'd been right and the smell had been in their clothes. Anyway, Aunt Petunia made that horse face all the time, whether she was displeased with something they did or not, so that really couldn't be a deciding factor on much of anything.

Breakfast with the Dursleys was a rather normal affair. Uncle Vernon drank his coffee and read his paper. Aunt Petunia hovered over Dudley that was _after_ she'd checked them. Running the usual once over to make sure they hadn't flinched any food before her precious Duddykins.

And then there was Dudley. As their round-turned cousin stuffed his face full of food, wolfing it down before he even got a taste of it, he also somehow managed to brag about his new school. Far more rambunctious than usual, Dudley boasted about his acceptance to Smelting. Egged on by his father, he even had the audacity to whip his new Smelting's stick at Charlie's still empty plate. Of course, he didn't aim the stick at either of them, but it was annoying enough to have his brother's plate attacked.

But other than that, everything was normal. Just another regular, boring morning at the Dursleys. Harry held in a sigh as he watched their whale of a cousin sit back in his chair, clearly finished with his breakfast. As usual, Charlie entered the fray. Maneuvering between platters as he piled a plate first for Harry then for himself. Plates filled, Harry gave it a few extra minutes before acting.

As obviously as he could, Harry went for more food, focusing on the small pile of toast in plain view of both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon, eyes still glued to his morning paper, missed the motion altogether. However, Aunt Petunia's hawk-like eyes missed nothing. Just as planned, Harry had her full attention as she sent a death glare towards him.

Slowly, Harry pulled back his hand. Hopefully, Charlie had had enough time during his near silent reprimand to flinch some extra rashes. Turning back to his plate, Harry continued eating. He would need to wait a little while longer before trying again.

Unlike during special holiday breakfasts when the Dursleys were far more distracted by Dudley to even remember they were at the table, little distractions like that one were a must if Charlie was going to be able to sneak away with their extra food. But that was nothing new. It was just another normal morning at the Dursleys.

Like clockwork Charlie got up the moment he heard the mail man, while Dudley kept going on and on about Smelting. Harry was happy for him, really he was. There wouldn't be more times like this where Dudley was the center of attention. Smelting was a boarding school, a _private_ boarding school. Harry was sure Dudley would meet a bigger and meaner version of himself. After all, karma was a bitch. At least that was what every book he'd read said.

And Harry like to believe it too. The Dursleys might not believe in fairy tales, but someone must have. Loads of people really, because he'd read more than enough about them.

Glancing up as his brother re-entered the room, Harry was brought from his thoughts by the sight before him. Charlie seemed, off. A little different, shaken even. Harry wasn't sure what, but _something_ was bothering him. He wanted to ask now. To comfort his brother in the moment, but he knew he couldn't ask here. Not while his relatives were still at the table.

* * *

Harry stepped outside right behind his brother. It was summer, and one of the many 'joys' of the holiday meant longer lists of chores. Or better known as the summer swelchers as Charlie had cleverly coined them. As they were approaching their eleventh year of life, the two boys had plenty of experience with chores. Put simply there were two types of chores, outdoor and indoor.

The swelchers were so named from a particularly bad summer when they'd not realized the folly of working outside in the afternoon heat. The lesson had been well learned. Now, they knew better than to work outside in the heat of the day. Which in the end meant the first chores for them to tackle would be of the outdoor variety.

Aunt Petunia's list for outdoor chores wasn't usually long. After all, there were only so many things that could be done. The hedges needed trimming only once a month. And the maintenance of the picket fence was done only once a month as well. Of course they had to clean off mildew every week a section at a time, but that was a task that they'd delegated to the beginning of the week to allow for more free time by the week's end.

Although that really didn't change the fact that the time consuming task that came with fence maintenance was always a rather big job. Charlie, to Harry's utmost annoyance, loved to quote the three areas of concern: rot, mildew and nails. So, Harry usually let him lead them in that activity. Hey, if his brother wanted to brag about how much he knew about fences then he could do the majority of the work.

Today of course, they only had three things on the outdoor chores list. Sweep the drive way, clean the outside of the windows, and tend the garden. The first two were simple enough and wouldn't take much time. The garden, however, would need the most attention.

The tending of the garden often depended on the season. There was weeding, watering, raking, and pruning. Raking for the leaves in the fall season. Pruning, a spring activity. And finally, weeding and watering, an activity that needed to be done nearly all year long. They were really only supposed to be weeding in the garden as Aunt Petunia liked to pretend to garden herself. However, Charlie loved plants, and would often spend some extra time caring for the plants to make sure they were growing healthy.

Honestly, Harry didn't think it would take them long to do their outside chores. When you did the same thing every day, it was more upkeep then real work. The loud roar of a neighbor's lawn mower caught Harry's attention as they made their way to the garden. Soon enough they'd probably be mowing too. Uncle Vernon thought they might be big enough for it in a year or two. But for now, it was off their list, leaving Uncle Vernon with that task of mowing the lawn once a week.

Charlie turned his head to see the neighbor riding his lawn mower. Harry knew Charlie was excited to mow the lawn. The Dursleys had a fine riding lawn mower, bought only a year ago. Harry had to admit it did look fun cutting the grass like that. He just seriously doubted that Uncle Vernon would let them use the riding mower. In fact, he wouldn't put it past him to buy a push mower just for them to use, probably second hand no less.

"Come on Charlie, let's get this finished so we can practice with the football some more."

"Sure, sure."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while. Which was a little unusual. Normally, they'd talk with each other while working, discussing recent books or a football match Charlie had caught on the radio. Aunt Petunia didn't mind them talking outside. Indoors was another thing entirely. Those chores were to be done silently, or quiet enough that she wasn't bothered. Not so with outdoor chores. But currently Charlie was rather contemplative, lost deep within his own thoughts. The sight of which brought Harry back to breakfast. Something was amiss.

"What is it Charlie? What's bothering you?"

Charlie looked up in surprise, but then a serious expression came over his eyes. "We've… we've got a letter. One each!" he whispered with excited energy.

"Letter? Like from the post?" Who in the world would be writing them? Harry was sure to turn in his library books on time. Never a day late, least they take his borrowing privileges away.

"There wasn't a sender." Charlie kept going sensing his disbelief, "But it was definitely for us!"

"How do you know it wasn't a mistake?" Harry didn't want to get his hopes up. They'd often fantasized about long lost relatives coming to take them away from the Dursleys, but it was only fantasy.

Charlie leaned closer as he pulled up another weed. "It was addressed to the cupboard. _Our_ cupboard."

Harry took a sharp breath. No one knew about their cupboard. _No one_.

"It's true Harry. Letters to us!"

"That's why you looked different after the post. We've letters. Real letters?" Charlie nodded as they moved down the row. "Why not… earlier?"

"You know I don't trust anyone but you, Harry. They'd never let us have them," Charlie said darkly. "They're in our box now. We'll look at it after chores, and you'll see." Charlie nodded hard. "You'll see. We've letters."

Harry didn't trust himself to speak again. This was huge. They had a letter.

* * *

Harry looked over Charlie's shoulder as his brother retrieved the letters from their box. Next to the extra food from this morning, and some of their other personal items, was two thick envelopes. Charlie picked them both up spreading them out. One letter was indeed addressed to Mr. Harry Potter. And a quick scan revealed the reference to their cupboard under the stairs. It _had_ to be real. Harry reached out with his left hand and attempted to take his letter. His hand trembled with excitement and fear. This could be it. With his letter clutched gently in his small hands, he looked over at Charlie's waiting face. "Should..."

"Together," his brother responded instantly, not even allowing his words to fully form.

They nodded as one before gently opening their own letters, together. The rustling of paper sounded as they both pulled out their letters and read. Harry read the short paragraph once, twice over before Charlie looked up again. This couldn't be right.

"Harry," he called out softly, but the light had already left Harry's eyes. His excitement was gone. Replaced with the biggest disappointment he'd ever felt. This was… "Harry, come on…"

"BOYS!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice called out to them. Charlie took the letters and stuffed them back into their box. Harry moved on autopilot. Aunt Petunia would be a welcome relief from this, _letter_.

After dinner, Harry moved without thought to the low table at the edge of their bed. It was just long enough to fit inside their small cupboard. Thankfully, Charlie had finally managed to even out the last short leg so they no longer had to use their books to level out the surface. Harry put his hand on the cool surface as he retrieved his extra summer assignments. It may not have been pretty, but it was theirs.

Salvaged from the edge of a curb near their favorite park, Harry actually thought that it may have once been an end table or coffee table in another life. Now, however, it was their desk. A place they could do their assignments without being harassed by the Dursleys. It just made life easier especially when the Dursleys wanted to ignore the fact that they too had homework to complete.

As it was, Harry could work on any number of assignments without fear of being yelled at. After all, Dudley rarely sat down to work, and Aunt Petunia hated reminders that her little Duddy wasn't nearly as smart as his twin cousins.

Harry picked up the first page of his worksheet as he started in on his work. While he'd actually finished all the required ones a few weeks into the summer holiday, Harry still liked to work on these types of things. So as usual, Charlie had asked their teachers for some extra work. Charlie was a good big brother like that, asking the teachers for things he himself was too afraid to ask.

He was on the third math problem when Charlie broke the silence. "I've been thinking."

"Yeah?" Harry asked without looking up from his problem. Unlike Charlie, he was actually good at multitasking.

"About the letters."

"Their jokes, Charlie. We've been pranked," Harry spat, writing the answer to the next problem with a violent stroke of his pencil. He wasn't upset with Charlie, how could he be. Charlie had done nothing wrong. But he couldn't hide his disappointment. He'd get over it of course. There must be some silver lining he couldn't see just yet, some lesson to be learned that he could pull from this experience. But for now, and the next few hours, he felt entitled to be a bit upset. After all, he'd thought someone actually _cared_ about them. Wanted them, maybe. It was a lot to lose all at once.

"Yeah, I thought so too at first but…"

"There is no but!" Harry whispered fiercely, looking up from his work to interrupt his brother before he could even get started. He didn't want Charlie to make this better. Sometimes there were just things that couldn't be fixed.

"Look, no one but the Dursleys know about the cupboard." Harry was silent as his brother pushed forward, clearly unwilling to let the matter drop. Of course, that _had_ bugged him too, but he didn't think that really changed the facts. It just didn't seem as if anyone cared. "Can't be Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, they hate the idea of magic," his brother continued, his hands moving about as he emphasized his point. "Never would _they_ write something like that."

"Dudley?"

"Maybe, but some of these books." Charlie shook his head at the idea. "No way he's smart enough to think of these."

Harry turned to look at his brother. To just think. Dudley was too stupid to come up with something like this. If anything he'd have done the outside and written in 'Sike!' or something like that. And no one else knew about the cupboard. Still… "Magic isn't real, Charlie. It's all fairy tales and make believe."

"What if it isn't?" Harry moved to protest, but his brother cut him off. "No, hear me out. What would it hurt if we responded? Someone gets a good laugh if it's fake, but if it's real." Charlie paused to look at him, green eyes reflecting his own and Harry saw something that wasn't normally there. Hope. "If it's real, then we could be away from the Dursleys. No more chores, no more trickery just to get a second helping of the food _we_ made. This sounds like a boarding school, Harry. Real beds."

Harry swallowed heavily. It sounded too good to be true. "But…"

"What could it hurt to reply?"

"We haven't any money."

"We'll ask for scholarships."

Harry sighed in defeat, his pencil finally dropping as he sat back on their bed, the makeshift chair for their makeshift desk. "Alright."

"Brilliant! Now let's write a reply." Charlie moved over to join him on the bed, pushing him to the side so he could get to the low desk. Harry pulled out a scratch piece of paper as his brother grabbed a nearby pen. "I suppose I should write it."

"What? Why?" Harry replied quickly. The resulting stare from his brother was more than enough for him to get the gist. "Oh, well. I'll just write slowly," he bargained, but his brother's look didn't change. Finally with a huff, Harry conceded the point. "Fine." Moving completely from the writing spot to let Charlie take over, Harry lamented his fate. It wasn't _his_ fault he was left handed. Or that his writing looked a lot like chicken scratch. If he went slow enough it was _mostly_ legible.

Harry leant over Charlie's shoulder as his brother wrote. "No, no. We know who it concerns," Harry spoke up, pointing to the opening in question.

Charlie breathed out heavily, "Fine." He scratched it out and wrote again. "Wait that sounds too stuffy. Can't I call her professor?" Charlie scratched it out again and rewrote the first line a third time before Harry could even respond. This was going to take them all night.

"No, we don't know if she teachers any classes."

"So, she probably did at one point."

"Well, calling her Professor might be offensive, since she'd got a higher title now."

Charlie tilted his head in thought before nodding and crossing that out to rewrite the opening again. He moved on with little fanfare. "You can't write that, it needs to be more formal," Harry interrupted again. Sometimes he didn't know what to do with Charlie.

"But it's _true_ we didn't know we were wizards."

"Yeah, but this is a formal letter. We want her to think we have some class."

Charlie sighed heavily, "Fine." He crossed it out and rewrote the sentence.

"Gracious," Harry corrected over his shoulder. Sighing, Charlie inserted the word, writing it in tiny script so that it could fit between the two words Harry pointed to. "Hidden talent," Harry read aloud with a nod, "I like that one."

"Knew you would," Charlie stated before writing another line.

"No, no. You can't say that either," Harry stopped him. Really, this would just be faster if _he_ wrote it.

"Why not it's true, we are in a bit of a pickle."

"Yeah, but there _must_ be a better way to say it."

"Okay, give me one."

"Ah, ah…" Harry was at a loss for a different word. Damn, Charlie was right again.

"That's what I thought," Charlie replied like the smug bastard he was.

"Well that part there, you can't put that part there."

"Fine, I'll change it. But you have to go over in your corner and stop reading over my shoulder. You know I hate it when you do that."

"How am I supposed to correct you? This is my letter too."

"You can read it when I'm done."

"Fine." Harry pouted. Normally that could get Charlie to change his mind, but he wasn't looking in the right direction. Oh well. Harry moved back to his corner, which wasn't even a foot away, as he waited. Soon enough the scratches of pen to paper were done, and Harry moved to revise the letter.

"Better connection here… _recommend_ several." Harry pointed out as he went through it.

"There's no need to use all those words," Charlie complained, but he changed it anyway.

"Replace this." Harry waited for the change before continuing, "And you forgot about the pamphlets."

"Fine." Charlie wrote a quick line about pamphlets before shaking his head and crossing the sentence out.

"Hey!"

"We're going no matter what. We don't need pamphlets."

Resigned to that point, Harry moved on. "Shouldn't I at least sign my own name?" Harry replied weakly. Charlie just turned to look at him. That same, are you serious right now look that he always seemed to use in situations like this one.

"You want her to be able to read it?"

He couldn't really argue with that, but Charlie didn't have to be so mean about it. That, and it would have been nice to have _his_ name first for a change.

"We'll flinch an envelope and stamp from Uncle Vernon's office once everyone's asleep," Charlie continued having won the argument with no contest. "It'll be mailed tomorrow," he added as he pulled out another sheet of paper to re-write the letter. Quickly jotting down the revised letter, Charlie turned a grinning face back to Harry, a low whisper as he spoke his next sentence. "We could be wizards, Harry."

* * *

AN: So, we took some liberties with the layout of the Dursleys' house, inside and out. Other than that, hope you enjoy.

Don't own anything Harry Potter related, by the by...

KJ


	4. Chapter Three

**_Chapter Three: If but for that one thing, it could have been normal_**

The sun shone brightly on this warm summer morning, its powerful rays piercing through the thick walls of the large castle set atop a rocky surface. Surrounded on one side by forest, a large lake marking a beautiful section of the landscape, the castle was magnificent. Hogwarts, a school for many of the young British witches and wizards to learn, stood tall and regal in the warm midmorning light of Scotland.

Though well into the summer holiday, only a few witches and wizards lined its halls. Mostly professors and the lonely custodian resided within the castle walls. Madam Prince having still been away from her beloved library on extended vacation, Madam Hooch at the annual Quidditch symposium excited about the Nimbus 2000 demonstration, and Madam Pomfrey taking an advanced course in Magical Medicine at St. Mungo's to update her already stellar qualifications. Preparing for the school year to come, many of the professors could be found within the confines of their offices, some checking on their classroom for the upcoming semester.

A one, Professor Severus Snape, was taking the time to inventory his potions stock. Unfortunately, he was low and would soon need to make the trip to Diagon Alley as he rarely used the owl service. There was just no way to ensure the quality of each ingredient without a thorough visual inspection, no matter how much he liked the various proprietors that he frequented. However, Professor Snape's current whereabouts were of little consequence. In the long run, his activities had little effect on the running of the school. Nothing more than preferred action really.

No, what was of real interest was a room far from the dank, darkness of the castle dungeons. Situated comfortably on the first floor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, windows high as they faced the training grounds, was a well-kept office. Militant in its organization, the great cherry wood of a highly structured desk sat in the corner near the window. Warm yellow beams lighting neatly stacked papers as they sat atop the surface, waiting to be addressed. The gold tempered glass of an ink well, filled halfway with the black substance, sat off to the side. A well-used quill, its deep burgundy feather beautiful in its splendor, not a barb out of place, the brass etched tip tucked neatly into its holster, rested beside the ink well.

The rest of the room was as Spartan as the surface of the dark cherry wood of the desk. Illuminated brilliantly by the morning light, only two small tables and four high-backed chairs filled the room. Nestled next to a large, inviting fireplace was the soft wood of the larger table. The matching cherry wood home to a single candle, the gold holder etched with the various forms of the mighty lion, small yet detailed. Three high-backed chairs surrounding the table, the fourth resting behind the solitary desk.

Tucked away into a corner very near to the desk was the other table. A small end table that housed a much loved tea set, gold and crimson kettle next to simple cups and saucers, each a porcelain cream edged in gold. It was a lovely set up, walls bathed in a warm tone of gold, heavy drapes a deep crimson. An elegant plaque of a lion, golden in its magnificent fury, surrounding by crimson flames hung high above the fireplace. This room could belong to but one person within the charmed walls of Hogwarts.

The Gryffindor's head of house, Minerva McGonagall, stood rigidly near her office window. As proper as ever Minerva continued to enjoy her small break from the seemingly never ending duties of the Deputy Headmistress as she prepared her midmorning tea. Back stiff as she slowly stirred in one cube of sugar, she did enjoy indulging every once and a while, and a small bit of milk, Minerva took her tea back to her desk, walking the short distance in quick purposeful strides.

Dark brown robes perfectly in place, not a wrinkle in sight, the colors still crisp and sharp, Minerva lowered herself back into her seat, falling into perfectly proper posture even as she relaxed. Hair pulled high and tight into a bun, the militant precision of which left not a single strand out of place, Minerva took her first sip of her newest cup of tea.

Sighing into the cup, she took another sip. Sharp eyes, even behind square framed glasses, taking in the state of her office, she nodded at the orderliness. Not a single thing was out of place. Which was to be expected, she put a premium on order. Taking care to ensure everything she owned maintained that same high standard. After all, she spent a large amount of time occupying this space, especially in the summer hours. So much so that she often blended into the very space itself, although that did not make her a woman to be trifled with. Quite the opposite if any of her students, both former and current, were ever asked.

Minerva took one last sip from her tea before setting the cup aside. She had work to review. Deft hands plucked the first page from the pile, a report on the grounds-keeping, small but one of the many necessary details needed in order to maintain such a large private boarding school like Hogwarts. Each report, an update on various sections of the school as it proceeded to prepare for the upcoming term, required her full attention.

Quick fingers marking notations of various areas, certain sections that she would need to address personally or discuss with Albus, as she reviewed each report in her small pile. The pile was the smallest it had been all summer which wasn't exactly a surprise. This close to the new school year, her summer duties were all but complete. The hustle and bustle of contacting and meeting with the muggleborn first years was over. Her trips to Diagon Alley were finished. There wasn't much left for her to do, but continue keeping a close eye on the preparations for the upcoming term. Small things really as the magic of Hogwarts took care of most every small aspect of housing the students.

Shifting the finished report to the top of her complete pile, she would file the whole lot of them away at the end of the day, Minerva nodded again as she noted the slowly dwindling pile. She had nothing to do today but address these few reports and meet with Albus. This was as close to relaxed as she would get during her summer vacation, at least outside of her short two week vacation. Which was fine. The summer was really too long and too short anyway.

At least they were going to have a good batch this year. Each muggleborn first year had been sharp and a pleasure to meet. And given the pure-bloods and half-bloods on the list, this coming class year would be just bursting with talent. She was certainly looking forward to teaching them.

Plucking another report from the pile, Minerva took a moment to relax. One measured sip from the still warm black tea, just the barest hint of sweetness, before she set it back down and returned to her work. These quiet few minutes where those she cherished most during the summer hours. With far fewer stressors than during the regular school year, she didn't plan on taking these few moments of calm for granted.

After all, the start of the term meant the return of the Weasley twins and thus the near evaporation of all her free moments. With that troublesome duo returned to Hogwarts, she was sure she would not see another relaxed moment. Minerva straightened even further in her high backed chair trying not to think of the rapidly growing number of gray hairs atop her head. The majority of which acquired only within the last two years. It really shouldn't have been possible for two boys to get into so much trouble. Not even James and the duplicitous Black, a rather infamous duo, managed to cause that much trouble.

Minerva sighed deeply, the thought of one of her greatest failures dredging up a wealth of emotions. Black had been such a joy to teach, a natural talent with most magics. She just couldn't see where she'd gone wrong in his guidance. If only she could have done more to keep Black on the right track to encourage his separation from his family predilection then perhaps James and Lily would still be here.

With another sigh, Minerva moved the thought to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to reminiscence on pure conjecture about what could have been or what she could have done differently. Truthfully, there was never really a time to do such, to indulge in such backwards looking thoughts. The past could not be changed. That was a concept that all people had to understand.

Darker thoughts pushed aside, Minerva turned back to the work before her. Her updates had been checked and reviewed, quick messages written down ready to be sent out later in reply. She'd given the upcoming term booklist the final okay several weeks ago. At this point all new and current students should be adequately prepared for the new school year.

Of course, updating the booklist hadn't actually been a rather taxing task. As it was, there had been only one change to the list, like every year for the last several decades, the only class that needed an updated booklist was _Defense Against the Dark Arts_.

An undignified puff of air escaped Minerva's lips as she thought about Hogwarts' current predicament for the DADA class. Unfortunately, their students just could not seem to acquire the proper Defense training at least not as the class was currently taught. If she could just convince Albus to set a required text to have for the revolving teachers of the DADA class, then they might see some increase in the consistency of what was taught. And of course the plus side meant that there wouldn't be a need to continuously change the booklist each year for all of the students.

However, Albus was correct. They really could not force the professors to teach out of books of which they were not familiar. After all, she would hate for someone tell _her_ how to teach her class. But perhaps there was another way to achieve the same end goal of consistency. Of course, that was a thought better left for another time.

Turning back to the issue at hand, Minerva continued to run down her checklist of pre-term duties. As it was she had already confirmed with the Ministry that the Hogwarts students O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores had been issued and sent, those letters having been sent through the post earlier in the week. That of course would drastically lower the number of owls she would receiving regarding the scores. Likely she would only get letters from her own house requesting advice on which courses they could take in the upcoming year.

Thoughts about her own house, pulled her attention away from her general Head Mistress duties. While her house was already set in order, she couldn't help but wonder if it would be enough. As it was she had picked Mr. Wood to lead the Quidditch team this year. She was sure he'd do a wonderful job, but she still worried that it would not be enough for them to win the Cup. While she did not particularly like the rather competitive streak that had always been with her, she also strongly disliked the idea of the Quidditch Cup sitting on Severus' mantel for another year. Frankly she thought the Cup would look just dashing sitting below the lion's head above her fireplace.

Mentally shaking the idea from her head, she returned to the task at hand. Double checking the prefect list as well as the head boy and girl confirmation, Minerva nodded as she reviewed each positive response. At least one of the Weasleys was doing well. Although, she doubted he'd be able to keep the twins at bay. Unfortunately, she had come to the conclusion that nothing would keep them at bay. The best that could be done to combat their mischievous nature was to simply limit the damage, and pray that her house could recover from the loss of house points.

Actually, now that her thoughts had turned to the Weasleys, she remember that her house would be getting another one this year. With any luck he wouldn't be anything like the twins. She was not entirely sure she could take more of that kind of stress, not for her nor for her house. And unfortunately, there wasn't a Weasley that hadn't gone to Gryffindor, so she couldn't wish away the stress to another house. No, he would definitely be one of _her_ headaches if he took after the twins. Unfortunately, she feared that by the end of the Weasley twins' time here at Hogwarts she'd be far older than her years suggested.

The last document reviewed, Minerva checked the time. It was nearly time for her meeting with Albus. Sighing softly she pushed away from her desk and got up slowly, tea cup emptied and cleaned with a quick flick of her wand. She was halfway to the small end table, tucked away into the corner with her tea set resting atop its surface, when a light tapping at her window caught her attention.

Minerva quickly returned her tea cup to the small table before turning to open the window. It was odd timing for post, but she couldn't say it was completely unexpected. With a deft flick of her fingers, she opened the window to let in the owl. Barnyard brown, Minerva relieved the young owl of its burden, setting the post down before tending to the bird. Pouring fresh water into the small bird dish resting neatly at the window seal, she spoke softly to the bird, directing him to the Owlery once he'd refreshed himself.

Task complete, she turned back to her desk, the bundle of letters stood neatly at its center. At this hour, these letters could only be one thing. The regular muggleborn post. Collected at the Hogwarts box in the muggle post, they were always sent as a batch, typically managing to make it to her desk at least once a week depending on how many letter came in of course. Unperturbed by the sight of the letters, Minerva moved the stack to her inbox. She would check the letters later.

Assured that the post could wait, after all, there could be nothing urgent among the pile, Minerva straightened her robes and headed for her door. The muggleborn first years had been taken care of, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s newly sent out, booklists delivered, whatever resided within those letters would be simple queries. Perhaps a message sent from Miss Granger. With the endlessly inquisitive nature of the young girl, she would not be surprised if another set of questions awaited her response.

Minerva nodded quietly to herself as she shut the heavy wooden door to her office behind her as she left. Always asking question, constantly seeking answers to every problem presented to her, willing to go the extra step to be well prepared, she was sure that Miss Granger would be a delight to teach. And of course the other letters were likely from various muggleborn sixth year students asking about the O.W.L.s results. Messages sent out maybe a day or two before they received their letters with their results. Those types of letters could certainly wait until after her meeting with Albus.

A brisk pace set, Minerva made her way to Albus' office. The journey was mostly silent. Only the soft click of her heels as she walked across the cold stone floors of the Hogwarts castle and the occasional greeting from various portraits breaking up the quiet as she moved. As was typical, a sharp nod was enough to satisfy the portraits words of greeting. Which was a rather good outcome as the numerous portraits lining the walls tended to be rather sensitive to small things like being ignored. She'd learned early on in her time here at Hogwarts to know that offending the portraits was not worth the grief that she would receive in response. Especially not when it was so easy to satisfy their sensitivities.

Continuing on the rather familiar journey, sure steps gliding up staircase after staircase, Minerva worried not about their continuous motion. The castle may have had a mind of its own, however, since the day she'd stepped foot back into its magical halls as a professor, she'd always managed to end up going in the direction of which she wanted. It was as if the castle moved with her, allowing her to reach her destination without much fuss, unlike the many first year students that attempted to navigate the many halls.

With the ease of a magical castle on her side, the walk to Albus' office was a quick one. Minerva paused at the stone gargoyle statue guarding the entrance, a frown gracing her lips. She knew the password of course, but she hesitated to say it. What was with this man and his eccentric passwords? It really was unbecoming of a man of his age.

With a soft sigh, Minerva finally let the words leave her lips. "Licorice wands," she said tersely. Wizarding candy, muggle candy, any type of sweet really. It was all really childish. Of course it wouldn't be quite so bad if that was the extent of his eccentricities. However, it did not stop at candy.

No, the man wore the most gaudy of robes she'd ever seen, which covered up his habit of wearing equally gaudy and mismatched socks. Worse yet was the fact that _she_ was perpetrating this habit. But it made it easy for her to shop for him during the holidays. And realistically, he'd get another pair of equally gaudy socks if she didn't buy him one. So, there was no point in giving up an easy gift idea for her own principles. Not this time at least.

Climbing the spiral staircase, unwilling to wait for its moving stairs to take her up as they were designed to do, Minerva made it to the headmaster's door with time to spare.

"Ah Minerva, early as ever. Lemon drop?"

The frown that had yet to leave her face deepened at the question. That man and his sweet tooth. It would certainly be the death of him and as always, she was not keen to follow.

"No thank you, Albus," she replied as she took a seat. Back straight and attention focused solely on the man sitting across from her, Minerva waited for the required pleasantries to begin. While she wasn't the biggest fan of them, she did enjoy talking with Albus. After all, he was one of her dearest friends.

"Tea perhaps," he offered, that joyous twinkle ever present in his eyes.

More than agreeable to the suggestion, she gave her nod of assent. "I assume your day has been well," she began as Albus conjured the pro-offered tea. Black, no sugar, no cream as she didn't make a habit of indulging more than once in one day.

"Well enough," he replied with a smile, filling his own cup with more sugar and cream than was really necessary. There was his sweet tooth again. "The Minister has a new set of questions every hour it seems," he continued, his smile never falling. "But of course, I live to serve. As you well know."

Minerva nodded in understanding, allowing the words of the conversation, mundane topics spoken with the causal ease of two great friends, to fill the room. Sipping quietly on her tea, she waited until the soothing beverage was completed before moving the conversation forward. After all, she was here for a reason.

Cup and saucer placed neatly at the edge of his desk, Minerva waited for the turn in conversation. "So, unfortunately, I do believe we have some business to attend," he began, setting down his own cup as well. "Shall we?" he asked, pulling another nod from Minerva before he continued. "Ah, why don't we start with more pleasant business, no? What can you tell me of the first years? Is everything in order for their arrival?"

"Very well," she replied curtly. "All the letters have been sent and at the very least opened, although I have yet to receive all replies. This however is to be expected as it is still several days away from the official deadline. As with every year, I expect that we will still be receiving replies until a couple of days past the indicated deadline."

With a nod, Albus smiled. "Yes, yes of course," he replied with a grin, obviously pleased that everything was at least on track on that front. "And the muggleborns? Are our newest additions to the wizarding world well prepared for their entry?"

"Yes, as usual, I have personally seen to meeting with all of them." She paused for a moment, a small smile lighting her face as she continued, giving Albus a little more than just strict facts. "We have a very good batch this year, Albus. All the parents are on board and excited about this next step for their children. Each young mind ready to learn more. I doubt we'll have problems on that front."

If possible, Albus' smile grew wider, genuinely happy at the news. "Wonderful, truly fantastic to hear, Minerva," he spoke joyously before moving on to the next topic. "And for our scores, how did we fair? Better than Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?" he asked with glee, excited at beating his friendly rivals.

"Overall, our N.E.W.T. scores were much better than either school. However, Defense Against the Dark Arts was lacking in both sections. Visibly," she replied, a frown replacing the small smile that had only seconds ago covered her lips.

"It can't be helped," Albus dismissed, easily excepting this deficiency in their education system. Lips pursed, Minerva allowed him to continue without addressing the ease at which he was letting this issue go. "What of the O.W.L.s?"

"Mixed results unfortunately," she began with a sigh. "Some of the subjects were below the Beauxbatons average, but that in itself is not unusual given the way they teach." Albus nodded in understanding as she moved on to further clarify. "And of course you already know about the Defense scores, however, we also managed to do just as poorly in potions."

"Both O.W.L.s _and_ N.E.W.T.s?" Albus inquired, a knowing smile covering his lips.

Lips pressed into a frown, Minerva attempted not to snap at the man in front of her. "Just O.W.L.s, Albus. As always, Severus has maintained a 100% rate of Outstandings in his N.E.W.T. level class."

"Great news..."

"But…" she interrupted, unwilling to allow the issue to drop. Albus may focus only on the N.E.W.T.s but that was not the only issue here. "We only had a third of the number of students compared to the other major schools taking the N.E.W.T.s," she continued, watching as Albus popped a lemon drop into his mouth, a tilt to his head as she spoke. "_Additionally_, his O.W.L. scores are extremely polarizing. It brings the average for potions down by a rather large amount."

"I see. And of Divination? You always have something to say about that," Albus inquired, the twinkle back into his eye as he waited for her response.

"You already _know_ what I think of that class. The student either has it or he or she does not. It can't be taught, so there's no point in bring up our scores."

Chuckling at the comment, Albus moved on. After all, he probably knew better than to stay on _that _particular subject for too long. "Your recommendations?"

At the request, Minerva sat taller, ready to enter territory that she knew would be rather controversial. "As I've mentioned before, I think a standardized Defense curriculum would help with our scores immensely. And at the very least, it will give the students some kind of stability."

Albus paused for a moment, giving his response real thought before replying. "Would you want someone to make your curriculum for you?" he asked, drawing a deeper frown to her lips. She really should have seen that excuse coming. After all, it was the one he always used. "I didn't think so," he continued with a sigh. "Minerva as hard as it is to accept, I really don't see a way around it. I'll try my best to hire well, but anything more will be simply impossible."

"And Severus?" she asked, unwilling to allow both issues to drop.

"Didn't you just say he had 100% Outstandings for his N.E.W.T. students? I see nothing wrong with his teaching methods with those kinds of results."

"Be that as it may. He turns out so few N.E.W.T. level students. And the O.W.L.s…" she paused, shaking her head at just the thought of such low scores. "As hard as it is to accept, we do receive the most Trolls from his course. And that really is unacceptable."

Albus paused to consider her concerns which was perhaps as good as she could expect. Hopefully, it would result in some kind of action, no matter how small. "I'll have a talk with him." Lips held in a tight frown at the words, she held in a sigh of displeasure. She had hoped for something other than that, but at least he was going to do something. Even if she knew how that would go.

"Now, about the Stone…"

* * *

Minerva sighed heavily as she sat down at her desk. She wasn't a fan of having something as dangerous as the Stone here, but Albus had a point. Hogwarts was the safest place for it, if You-Know-Who was really increasing his activity. After all, she fiercely believed that You-Know-Who was not dead, unlike most of the wizarding world.

No matter how much she wished he was gone for good. She was not stupid enough to believe that the Wizarding world had seen the last of the dark lord. An evil of that magnitude could not be so easily vanquished. The best thing they could do was prepare, which was why she was a little disappointed that there would be no change to the DADA class. Still, it was likely they had time. Plenty of time.

Turning her thoughts away from the stone, a job that she would start later, Minerva plucked the first letter from her inbox. While the protection of the stone and the school's inhabitants was important, it would also take far more time to deal with than the few letters resting atop her desk. She would not delay the current queries from her students longer than necessary. After all, her students always came first.

As was no great surprise, the first letter she opened was indeed from Miss Granger. Filled with another batch of questions, Minerva happily answered them. It was always nice to see muggleborns, or any student really, with a healthy sense of curiosity. Nodding softly to herself as her quill glided across the page, Minerva noted the character of the girl behind the plethora of questions. Indeed, she would not be the least bit surprised when Miss Granger was sorted into Ravenclaw. She suspected with Miss Granger's natural curiosity, she'd fit right in with Filius' birds.

Her reply thoughtfully crafted, Minerva moved the now sealed letter to her outgoing mail pile. When her work was complete for the day, she would take the whole lot to the Owlery to have the letters sent off without delay. Hopefully, it would ease the many minds that sought her council. Moving on to the next letter, it and the following belonging to two bright sixth year Ravenclaws, Minerva quickly allayed their concerns over their O.W.L. scores. As it was, she was sure they'd already gotten the scores, however, the query had been made so she still felt the need to answer.

After all, it really wasn't a great surprise to receive these letters via the muggle post, several days old as they were. As the muggleborn population went in Hogwarts, most students did not bother with the purchase of an owl. Not when Hogwarts provided the necessary birds during the term. Minerva could see how that would be an unnecessary purchase especially given that their wizarding born friends tended to have family owls that could be used to send post during the short summer months.

Nodding again to herself as she sealed another letter, shifting it atop the other two already in her outgoing mail, Minerva plucked the last letter from her pile. At a quick glance, Minerva smiled softly. After all, this was a letter she had been expecting for several days now. The Potter twins acceptance letter. She could not say she was exactly surprised to see they'd only sent the one letter. While it was Hogwarts policy to send a single letter to each first year, it was also common for twins or siblings going during the same year to reply back in a single letter.

With the fond, small smile still stretched across her lips, Minerva grabbed the gold, lion head handle letter opener from atop her desk to open it. Memories of Lily and James Potter came back to her. Both gifted students, they had been a joy to teach if not a terror to discipline at least on James' side. Aye, those had been good times, even in the darkest of hours. She couldn't wait for the twins to be here in Hogwarts. Where they belonged.

Chuckling lightly to herself as she pulled the letter from its envelope, she could only hope that they had inherited more of their mother. If they were too much like James, then she'd have another pair of troublemakers on her hand. The dark thought made her shutter. The Weasley twins she could just barely handle. If the Potter twins managed to get into even half the mischief that James had gotten into, then she'd likely be looking at an early retirement. Albus would certainly have to find a new Deputy Headmistress or Headmaster.

However, there was no point in considering her retirement just yet. After all, it was always possible for the twins to be very much like Lily. And if that were the case, then they'd be a dream to teach. She could only hope for the best.

Glancing down at the letter spread out across her desk, Minerva turned her attention to the Potter twins' reply.

'_Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, Thank you for your gracious invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._' Minerva stopped to smile at the respectful greeting. If this was the tone of the rest of the letter, then it would seem they had indeed taken more after their mother. After all, she could still remember the one line reply James had sent her. _'Bet your breeches I'm coming!'_ Short and borderline disrespectful it had been nothing like the kind, carefully thought out words of Lily. Obviously, the Potter twins were already leaps ahead of their father in that regard.

'_We were surprised that we had this hidden talent, but glad to be informed.'_ Minerva paused, a frown curling on her lips. Had the Dursleys told them nothing? The sentence worried her. Straightening even more so than her perfect posture required, she returned her focus back to the letter at hand.

'_We'd love to come, but we're in a bit of a financial pickle.'_ She paused again, her frown deepening until it felt almost etched into her skin. That can't be right. A financial pickle? Albus had assured her that the Dursleys were financially sound to support the twins on top of their own son. And surely, Albus had told the Dursleys that the twins Hogwarts' tuition would be paid for? Something was clearly amiss.

'_So, if there are any means of financial support that would be great. Additionally, could you recommend several shops and locations that we can acquire the required materials? Because we're pretty sure we won't be able to find this booklist in the local bookshop.'_ Minerva held herself from crushing the letter in her hand. Now she was sure that the twins had been told nothing of their magical heritage. By the sounds of it Lily's sister had not even been involved in the crafting of this letter. She was unsure of what to think of this new information. She did not want to think that the boys simply didn't trust the Dursleys to ask for help in this regard.

'_We assume that an owl is a wizarding form of post. So, we're sending it via regular post. Hopefully, it gets there on time. Yours, Charlie and Harry Potter.'_

Still surprised by the contents of the letter, Minerva reread it several more times before moving to her fireplace. Too agitated to waste time walking to his office, Minerva grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the ceramic lion's head atop her fireplace. She would be traveling by Floo powder to Albus' office whether he liked it or not.

"Ah, Minerva, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Albus!" She slapped the letter down on his desk, completely ignoring he jovial attitude. "You will not believe the letter I have just received."

Albus peeked over her hand at the parts of the letter he could see. "Ah, the Potter twins have replied. This is good news. Wonderful news," he smiled easily, completely missing the source of her anger.

Fury only made worse by the ease at which he smiled, unworried by the contents of the letter, Minerva pushed the letter further into his face. "Wonderful? Read this!" But she didn't give him time to read it on his own. "Financial _pickle_! Didn't even know they were _wizards_! _**You**_ promised me the boys would be alright, Albus! Now look at them!"

"I see nothing amiss." Minerva moved to speak, upset that he _still _seemed to miss the source of her concern only to have him stop her, a hand held up so that he could talk. "They seem to be perfectly fine. After all, they replied to the letter. They were no hindered in this endeavor. And even better, they have grown up outside of the heavy influences of the wizarding world, the fame of their accomplishments. And this, the issue of finances, is a rather easy enough problem to fix. So, as I've said, I see nothing wrong with this situation, Minerva."

Minerva pulled in a deep breath to calm herself. "And the fact that this letter seems as if the boys have yet to talk with the Dursleys at all about Hogwarts? Or even the fact that it seems they have grown up without knowing a single thing about their heritage." Taking the letter back she paced a short distance away before turning sharply back to Albus. "Imagine, how could the Dursleys even _explain_ the deaths of Lily and James without mentioning _magic_?"

"Now, now, Minerva. Even a child can understand that a bad man killed their parents without having to know about the magic part. And this is all for the best. You'll see."

"Even so, the twins might as well be muggleborns."

"And I am sure they'll learn just as quickly. All of the muggleborns do."

"Be that as it may, I cannot just send them on their way," Minerva moved to straighten her robes as she stood tall in front of Albus. "It is my _job_ to make sure every muggleborn understands magic. As such, it appears that I will have to put off arrangements for the Stone until the boys have been sorted."

"I'm sorry, Minerva, however, that is certainly _not_ an option. Unfortunately, we cannot hold off any longer on those preparations. I'll send Hagrid to help them get their supplies."

"Hagrid? In a muggle neighborhood. You must be joking," Minerva replied, disbelief that Albus would be so foolish as to think that the gameskeeper could blend into muggle society.

"Hagrid is an excellent choice. He's a trustworthy individual who will ensure that the boys get everything that they need, not to mention that I still need him to pick up the package anyway. This is a perfect opportunity."

"No," she began with a firm shake of her head. "If that is who you want to send, then I'll just have to _make_ time!" Before Albus could reply, the door to his office opened. "_What_?" Minerva snapped at the intruder, an unsuspecting Severus Snape.

"It seems I've caught you at a bad time. Do Floo me for our meeting," Severus spoke with his usual drawl before backing away from the door.

"No, no, Severus. Stay my boy. You have perfect timing," Albus stated, stopping Severus in his tracks. Minerva sighed. This would likely take longer than she anticipated to settle. And unfortunately, it really didn't seem as if she would going to get her way.

* * *

AN: Shit, sorry. Didn't realize this was the week to post. Turns out it's much harder to keep an every other week post schedule in my mind. It's been done for a while, but it's not finished. So we don't want to post it too fast. I'll try to do better in the future with remembering to post this, but I'm not that good with dates.

Sorry again. By the by, don't own anything.

KJ


	5. Chapter Four

**_Chapter Four: Three steps to the left of normal_**

**BANG! **

The sound of the front door slamming shut was loud in Charlie's ears as he continued to dry each dish that Harry handed him. That was probably Dudley, running out to meet with his gang of friends for the day. Likely another lazy summer day was on his schedule, a day he was sure to complain about if even one thing went 'wrong'. Of course that wasn't unusual. Dudley just didn't know how easy he had it. He couldn't appreciate a free day like this one. But that was okay. After all, Charlie couldn't really say he cared all that much.

Actually, Charlie thought he'd overhead talk about a movie. Some blockbuster thriller, lots of action, lots of explosions, lots of fighting and not much else, but he couldn't be sure. It had been during breakfast, and he'd been more concerned with stuffing more bacon into the floppy, overly large pockets of his trousers than pretty much anything his extra-large cousin had to say.

Honestly, he didn't give two shits about what Dudley did or didn't do as long as he remembered their deal. He could complain about overly buttered popcorn or not enough candy options. He could break every dish in the house in a furious tantrum at the 'woes' of his day. He could do whatever he liked. Hell, he could attempt to peddle Aunt Petunia's sleeping pills if he dared. It wouldn't change the fact that Charlie just didn't care what his cousin did.

However, that didn't always mean that Harry didn't. After all, any type of talk about interesting things, something out of the ordinary and more than the norm, always captured Harry's interest. So, Charlie thought it was a picture show because he could still remember the light that had entered his brother's eyes when he'd managed to glance over at him during breakfast.

Charlie sighed as he dried another dish, putting it aside for now until they had time to put the whole lot away all at once. They would need the step-stool that his brother was currently using to reach the sink to accomplish that. One day, he'd be able to take his brother on adventures, real ones, whenever he wanted. They'd go to the local theater and watch movies and plays. Hell, he'd eventually be able to take Harry to London where they could really explore.

While they probably wouldn't buy much, they would be able to visit all the city shops, see all the sights. It would be their grandest adventure, and Harry could finally stop being so envious of Dudley every time he went with his parents.

And the best part was, that it would be just the two of them. No Dudley making rude comments, insulting everyone around him even if they were just trying to help. No Uncle Vernon staring down at them, his face turning red as he tried not to lose his temper in public. No Aunt Petunia throwing toxic barbs at them, trying to convince them that they were completely unloved. Just no _Dursleys_, and that would be the best.

Charlie dried another dish as the sounds of Aunt Petunia twiddling in the other room reached him. Uncle Vernon had already left for work so that just left the three of them. He and his brother doing real work while Aunt Petunia toyed about in the other room alone. She liked to pretend she was cleaning her collection of porcelain vases, apparently they still couldn't be trusted around her prize collection despite the fact that the only person in the house breaking them was her little Duddykins. However, in the end Charlie was always the one that had to go back over them with a duster while she wasn't looking.

They'd originally let Aunt Petunia have her activity without interference, but she really wasn't all that good at dusting. Which was weird because give her a rag and thirty minutes and the woman could make every counter in the kitchen sparkle, not that she did that any more. Either way, once she'd finally noticed the excessive dust, the direct result of _her_ cleaning, she'd blamed _them_ for putting it there.

As if they'd spend time _putting_ dust onto things. That would just make they're job harder. Actually, Charlie wasn't entirely sure they _could_ put dust onto her vases. That was really a question better left to Harry. Charlie was sure his brother could do some kind of science experiment to figure it out. He'd be elated by the prospect if Charlie remembered to ask him.

Of course that was beside the point. In all actuality, sometimes Charlie wondered how that woman had managed to keep this house so clean before they'd learned to use a duster. Really, it was _beyond_ him. Perhaps having them around had just made her lazy and inattentive to these kinds of things. After all, good dusting took a bit of finesse, you couldn't just muscle through the task. He'd learned that the hard way.

Likelihood, he'd never know. As it was, he and his brother had been cleaning, one way or another, using their rickety step-ladder and a longer one that Aunt Petunia kept for her own personal use, since they'd developed enough coordination to hold the duster. Aunt Petunia's hawkish gaze watching them to make sure nothing got broken. And unfortunately, that felt like a lifetime ago. So he really couldn't remember a time when they _hadn't_ done most of the cleaning.

"Something must be wrong," Harry spoke quietly, ever cognizant that Aunt Petunia didn't tolerate any type of noise in her house, at least not from them.

"Well, our letters did say to owl in," Charlie replied, already knowing what his brother was concerned about without needing to ask. What could he say? It was a twin thing. "It probably just takes longer if you send it via regular post," he finished, grabbing the next dish in the process. By the looks of it, they were just about done.

"Or it was all just an elaborate hoax," his brother replied forcefully as he washed another dish.

"Come now, Harry," Charlie stated immediately. This was their chance to escape the Dursleys. He didn't want Harry to give up hope just yet.

"No, it's been eight days already," Harry shot back, unwilling to allow Charlie to say another word. "It doesn't take _that_ long for the post to get anywhere inside of the UK," he continued, turning away from the sink to really look at Charlie. "Face it Charlie, you were _wrong_. There's no such thing as magic," he finished dejectedly before turning back to the sink, hand easily sinking back into the sudsy water.

"Now don't say that, Harry. We've just got to believe." Charlie ignored his brother's scoff. He was right about this. He had to be. For Harry's sake. "Look, I bet the letter comes in today," he stated, his hands absentmindedly taking the next dish so he could fulfill his purpose.

"Good luck with that happening," his brother snorted in reply. "The regular post was already here remember? No letter."

Undeterred, Charlie pushed forward. "Well, then it'll come in a late post. If not, we'll cross the school off as a loss and focus on going to Stonewall. No worse for wear," Charlie declared, grabbing the last dish from his brother's hands the challenge alight in his eyes.

"Okay," Harry conceded, leaning against the counter as he waited for Charlie to finish. "But this is the last day we sit around waiting."

Nodding in agreement, Charlie placed the newly dried dish atop the pile he'd been making just as a strong knock from the front door filled the air. "Look that's probably it. I'll go take a look and hopefully beat Aunt Petunia to the door," he stated, pushing away from the counter as he made his way to the door. He really needed to reach the door before Aunt Petunia because he needed the post to be on the other side. Without it, Charlie just couldn't keep the hope alive.

Moving through the house on quiet footsteps, Charlie cursed himself for his aunt's prime door answering position. If that was the post and it was for them, then he'd need to come up with a really good tale to spin just so he could get his hands on it. At least he'd decided to check on it this time instead of his brother. Harry was far too direct to even think about telling a lie. Likely, he'd just ask for it since it had their name on it. Yeah, Charlie was sure whatever smart ass remark his brother would respond with when their aunt asked why wouldn't cut it. In all likelihood, it would probably see them on punishment for the remainder of the summer holiday, maybe even until Christmas.

As much as his brother hated to admit it, Harry just wasn't as smooth a talker as him. Now that he was thinking about it, he really should think of a convincing lie. Maybe he could say it was from a friend from primary, excited to be going to Stonewall too. That was plausible. Their aunt didn't particularly care about their school life, so she wouldn't know that they didn't really have friends. She might be mad at them for giving out her 'respectable' address, but she might still give him the letter.

With that thought in mind, Charlie crept around the corner to see just who was at the door, his excuse ready at hand on the tip of his tongue. Duster still in hand, Charlie could just make out a grumbled response of 'calling at this time' as Aunt Petunia opened the door.

It was a tall man Charlie had never seen before. Dressed neatly in a black suit with matching tie, the tops of a black waistcoat just visible atop a charcoal dress shirt, he looked like the sharp sort of chap that Uncle Vernon might invite over for company. Which was why it was rather odd to see the fury glaring from his aunt's eyes. Even from this distance, Charlie could not only see the hatred, pure and unaltered, but feel it as well. It really made no sense.

Perhaps Aunt Petunia distasted his hair. It was long and rather greasy looking. As black as the man's suit, it hung far longer than Charlie's own, reaching his shoulders, which definitely made it _far_ longer than Uncle Vernon would think appropriate. But even then. His long hair didn't really explain why Aunt Petunia was staring at the man as if he was the devil himself come to steal her first born to sacrifice him on an alter to unnatural pagan gods.

'And I thought she hated us,' Charlie thought as he inched closer. He wanted to be able to hear whatever was too come next. 'Man, I hope she never hates us _that _much. I'm not sure we'd survive,' he continued the thought as he eyed the scene closely. Post forgotten, Charlie was far more interested in finding out just what about this seemingly respectable man that Aunt Petunia hated. Likelihood, he'd need to figure out his name to send him a thank you letter. Whatever he'd done to earn that type of ire deserved no less than a commendation medal, a knighthood, and a photo with the Queen.

"A bit late for the funeral aren't you?" Aunt Petunia snipped, duster clearly forgotten as she clinched the door tightly in her free hand. Charlie stood with baited breath. Surely she wouldn't just slam the door on his face. Charlie was sure the scandal that might create would be far worse than just baring through a conversation, at least for his aunt.

The man stood silently, lips pursed as he held his tongue. Charlie stood stunned, thoroughly impressed by this man's fortitude and self-control. Was there a way to nominate the man for admittance into _The Royal Victorian Order_, because Charlie really felt like this man had committed the highest service to the Crown?

Clearly undeterred by his silence, Aunt Petunia continued. "Huh, even when you're trying, you still look like the street urchin we both know you are."

"And you still look like a donkey's rear end." He paused for a moment, as if contemplating his response further before continuing. "No, that would be an insult to the ass."

Quickly slapping a hand over his mouth, Charlie did everything in his power to muffle the sound of his laughter. The words, the _delivery_, said in the same long drawl that indicated pure boredom, was the stuff of legends. Now Charlie was certain. He'd found himself a hero. He couldn't wait to tell Harry.

Face drawn into a fierce frown, hand gripping tightly at the duster still clasped firmly in her grasp, Aunt Petunia ignored the man's words. "What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, venom lacing her every word as she stared down the stranger with burning eyes. "Lily is _dead_. Been buried in the ground where she _belongs_ for nearly ten years. There's nothing here for you, not any longer. Certainly no reason for you to be bothering me in my _respectable_ neighborhood," she continued fiercely, a wicked smile crawling onto her face as she began to speak her next words. "After all, can't chase after a _corpse_ like the dog you are."

Clearly effected by her words the man's crooked nostrils flared. "I'm _here_ for the boys," he ground out between clinched teeth causing Charlie to hold his breath. Could it be? Was someone finally here for _them_? He'd said boys. That had to mean something.

"And why would you need them?" Aunt Petunia snapped, but something caught Charlie's gaze. 'Is Aunt Petunia frightened?' he asked himself as he inched even closer to the pair at the door. Suddenly the letter popped back into his head. But it couldn't be. The Dursleys hated all things unnatural. They hated even the thought of these things, magic and fairytales and fanciful mythical creatures. There's _no way_ they could possibly _know_ about such a world.

"You know why," the man replied, his tone stern as he glared at her.

"No, that's impossible. They haven't received their letters yet." Charlie snapped his attention back to his aunt. So it was true. There was every possibility that Aunt Petunia was talking about their letters from Hogwarts. "There's no need for them to go to that unnatural school. They have no powers. They haven't inherited _her_ unnaturalness." Though Aunt Petunia spat the word 'her' out as if it was a curse itself, Charlie took no notice of it. There before his very ears, his magic hating aunt had just confirmed that Hogwarts was _real_. This was their _chance_.

"Believe what you will, but that does not change why I'm here. They've gotten their letters and now they're going."

Charlie grinned wide in the face of a fuming Aunt Petunia. He was _right_. They were something else, something more. Magical. Special. Shaking from his pleased stupor, Charlie slipped away from the door. He had to get Harry, now. There was just _no way_ he was going to let this opportunity pass them by. He wasn't going to wait around so Aunt Petunia could change her mind.

Slipping back into the kitchen, Charlie grabbed onto his brother, pulling him down from their rickety step stool in the process. Yanking the plate still clasped firmly in his brother's hands, Charlie pushed him towards the front door. They were getting out of here, _now_.

Glancing down at his brother once before he switched to just dragging him through the house, Charlie noted the confusion on Harry's face. Too excited and too rushed to stop and explain everything, Charlie left his brother with one sentence before continuing on their quest to the door.

"I was right!"

* * *

Charlie with Harry to his left followed close behind the strange man garbed in black as they moved briskly across the pavement. Despite the fact that they did not know the man's name nor did they know exactly where he was taking them, neither boy moved to ask a question thereby breaking the silence.

If they were going straight to this wizarding school then that would be cool, a bit sudden, but certainly cool, however, that would only heighten the problem of their current finances. Maybe when the man next spoke to them he could ask, just for clarities sake. After all, if they couldn't afford to attend Hogwarts then they'd have hated to waste this man's time. Which must be exceedingly precious if the pace at which they were walking was anything to go by.

Stopping abruptly, Charlie gazed quizzingly at Mrs. Figg's door. What could they possibly be doing here? Of course the man didn't give them much time to contemplate that question as he knocked hard before staring daggers at the door. A question on the tip of his tongue, Charlie was saved from being the first to break the silence, and risk irritating this rather busy man, by the old woman, crutch held tightly in her grasp, as she opened the door.

Without words, the man strode by, lifting one hand to his tie as he loosened the material. In moments the three of them stood alone in Mrs. Figg's living room. Strangely enough, her dozens of cats were nowhere to be seen. Of course that wasn't even the oddest thing about the room. No, what Charlie noticed almost immediately was the brightly burning fire. Despite the current late summer weather, Mrs. Figg's fireplace was going full blast. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger. So far away from being normal that Charlie was starting to question everything he knew about life.

The man turned away from the fireplace, setting down the black leather briefcase that Charlie had yet to notice in the process. With a quick tug at his necktie, a flick of each latch of the briefcase, and the black material was safely in the confines of the case. So focused on the brief sight of some sort of sack within the case, Charlie missed it when the man turned back to them.

"I shall explain this to you only once so listen closely," he began in a clip tone, his waistcoat on display. Apparently, the man had found time to undo the several buttons keeping his suit jacket closed some time while Charlie was distracted with the case. Clearly this man was a master of multitasking.

"We will be traveling by Floo powder. Though I doubt you're up to the task for even something _this_ mundane, it is the fastest way to get to Diagon Alley without running the risk of you vomiting on my shoes."

Charlie stared transfixed by all the new terms. So they weren't going to Hogwarts. That was alright. Most terms didn't start until at least the first of September he was sure Hogwarts would be the same. Even so, he was excited. While he didn't know where this Diagon Alley was, he was sure it wasn't anywhere near Surrey. This would be an adventure, and the best part of it all was that he'd get to share it with his brother. No Dursleys. Just the two of them, and well, the man in front of them. Even without looking, he knew Harry was just as excited if not more so about this adventure that they were about to take.

"The Floo powder system is simple, hopefully even you lot will be able to grasp it," the dark haired man continued before turning back to the fireplace. Without another word, the man grabbed a hold of Mrs. Figg's giant cat urn, taking off the ceramic cat head to get to the numerous cat ashes within. Charlie tried not to cringe at the sight, he really did, but that was just disgusting. Harry and he had often wondered just how many cats were laid to rest within the confines of that urn and now this strange man was sticking his hand in it. That was so far from normal that even he had to agree with the Dursleys and their philosophy. Some things just shouldn't be done.

Of course at the sight of the glittering powder, Charlie heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps he should just trust in the man a bit more. Clearly he knew what he was doing.

"You must place a pinch of this powder into the fireplace, then announce the location you wish to travel. If you cannot speak _clearly_ and _enunciate_ your words, then I shall not be responsible for where you end up," the man explained before dipping his fingers back into the urn, releasing the powder in the process. "Now come along, I shall go last."

Charlie stepped up first, unwilling to allow his brother to do this task first, especially if Harry wouldn't be the last to go. Reaching on the tips of his toes into the cat urn, Charlie grabbed a pinch of the glittering powder. He stared at it for a moment. This was magic. This was what their life would be. Eventually, this would even be normal.

His curiosity sated for the time being, Charlie stepped back, putting a bit of space between him and the fireplace. With a quick look at his brother, Charlie threw the powder into the fire. In an instant the fire roared, burning crimson flames turning emerald as the fire seemed to tower over him.

"Step into it," the dark haired man snapped, clearly tired of waiting. "We're going to Diagon Alley."

Pushing forward every ounce of courage that he possessed, Charlie stepped into the flames. Expecting it to burn as raw as the hot stove he'd scorched himself on once before, Charlie was pleasantly surprised to feel nothing but a warm breeze. It was as if the flames were but a gentle caress and to be quite honest, it was actually pleasant.

Remembering the words of the man behind him, Charlie spoke slowly, but firmly into the flames. He did _not_ want to get lost. "Diagon Alley!" he announced, reflexively shutting his eyes as he felt a tug. It was like being sucked down a drain. His body spinning at a rapid pace as the flames roared loudly in his ears. With his eyes closed tightly, Charlie could almost ignore the nauseating feel of being spun. Clearly, being magical did not mean that travel would be without its faults.

Finally, the spinning stopped and Charlie fell forward, his quick reflexes keeping him from falling flat onto his face. Ever cognizant of his brother traveling behind him, Charlie raced to get out of the way. It was then while he was standing just to the right of the worn looking fireplace, far enough that he'd be out of the way, but close enough that he'd be able to stop his brother from falling, that Charlie finally noticed his surroundings.

If this was Diagon Alley, then he wasn't entirely sure _what_ they were doing here. As far as he could see, this was just a pub, a dark and rather shabby pub at that. Despite the early hour, there were already patrons scattered about the place. Old men and women with long pipes and tiny glasses all dressed rather oddly. Only the bald old bartender, his face like a toothless walnut seemed to match what Charlie thought a bartender ought to look like.

'Maybe we're making a quick stop,' Charlie thought as the flames roared to life, spitting out his brother. 'Maybe our mysterious stranger has a few errands to run,' he continued, bolting forward just quickly enough to stop his brother from face planting into the cool stone floor.

Steadying his younger brother to his feet, Charlie began to dust the ash from his brother's clothes. Still rather dazed, it took a moment longer for Harry to return the favor. In another moment, the dark haired man stepped from the flames. To Charlie's horror, the man's suit was also covered in ash. Nearly rushing over to the man immediately, that suit was likely worth far more than everything they owned combined, Charlie never got the chance to help him as not a second later the ash was completely gone, a long wooden stick clutched firmly in his hand.

Charlie blinked. Had that been magic? Turning quickly to his brother, Charlie searched his eyes to see if he'd seen the same, but unfortunately, Harry was still blinking soot from his eyes, wiping at his glasses in the process.

"Come along now," the man spoke as he strode forward, passing the old bartender who greeted him with a single word and a nod of his bald head.

"Professor." Charlie nodded at the title. That made sense. He'd long ago assumed that this man was a representative from Hogwarts. Though clearly not the deputy headmistress and probably not the headmaster as they both probably had rather busy schedules, it was only logical that Hogwarts would send someone just as important. He was likely their best professor. A perfect example of what to expect from Hogwarts. Why else would they chose him to represent the school?

The newly announced Professor led them through the bar until they were exiting out the back. 'Okay, so the pub is _not_ Diagon Alley,' Charlie thought as he followed close behind. The sight of the small, walled courtyard with nothing but a trash can and a few weeds gave him pause. Had he not already decided to trust this man, he'd have questioned his sanity, again.

Content to just wait it out, Charlie turned to his brother. He had hoped to draw Harry into some type of conversation. However, that would not be the case. As it was, Harry's attention was focused solely on the brick wall that lay in front of them.

Curious to see what had so rampantly captured his brother's attention, Charlie glanced back only to see the Professor removing his long wooden stick from the brick surface. 'Shit, I hope I didn't miss anything important,' he thought as the Professor stepped back. Hazarding a glance back at his brother, Charlie could only conclude that he _had_ in fact missed something. After all, that was Harry's I've learned something new face. However, given that face, Charlie was sure his brother already had whatever sequence or code he'd missed memorized.

Suddenly, a loud sound, like the scrapping of bricks, reclaimed Charlie's attention. Turning back to the wall, Charlie noticed as a hole appeared. Brick by brick, the hole widened until they were standing in front of a large archway.

'So this is Diagon Alley,' Charlie thought as Harry pulled him along. He'd barely had enough time to marvel at the cobbled street, twisting and turning out of sight before his brother yanked him again. Apparently, he was being left behind.

It's an effort to keep up with the Professor, his long legs eating up the distance so quickly that Charlie had to abandon his attempts at sightseeing so he could focus on matching his pace. Charlie sighed as they moved rapidly past another interestingly decorated shop. Hopefully, Diagon Alley was a common place for all wizards to go. They'd probably have another opportunity to explore.

Finally, after traveling a good distance down the cobbled street, the Professor stopped. Not one to waste a perfectly good opportunity, Charlie took that movement to look around. Stunned at the snowy white building that towered over them, far larger than any of the shops around it, Charlie stared agape.

The sharp clip of the Professor's briefcase opening, pulled Charlie's focus back from the ornate building to the task at hand. Without words, the Professor shoved the small bag Charlie had spied earlier into his brother's hands before tossing him a tiny golden key.

"That," he began pointing to the building that Charlie had just been eyeing in awe. "Is Gringotts, the Goblin Bank." Charlie gulped at the term goblin, keeping his excitement to himself. "Take that." He moved his hand again this time pointing to the key clutched tightly in Charlie's hands. "With you to access your vault next year."

His instructions finished, the Professor turned to leave, heading in the same direction he'd been going before their abrupt stop.

"Professor," Harry stopped the man in mid stride, causing him to turn back to them. "Don't we need to go in now?"

"No," he replied curtly, before turning back to the task at head.

Unwilling to the let the question drop, it was important after all, how else where they to pay for schooling and supplies? Charlie spoke up quickly, stopping the Professor once more. "But how will we pay for Hogwarts and our supplies?"

Turning back towards them, frustration clear in his stance, the Professor spoke. "Hogwarts tuition is taken directly from your vault," he snapped before continuing. "As for your supplies, I've already sectioned off more than enough for the both of you. There will be no frivolous spending," he finished with a glare, dark eyes peering down at them.

"Uh?" Charlie questioned confused. He was obviously missing something. When had he sectioned money off for them? And where was this money?

With a sigh, the Professor rubbed at his temple with his free hand. "It would seem you've been unfortunate enough to inherit your father's cognitive skills." Too focused on the newly discovered information, Charlie almost missed the Professor's next words. "In the bag," he finished with a lazy point to the small sack clasped in Harry's hands.

At this new information, Charlie watched his brother open the bag, peering into it. Surprised at the confused look covering Harry's features, Charlie moved closer. He was going to need to take a look too.

'Okay, well, that's…interesting,' Charlie thought as he too stared confused at the contents. It was a bag full of coins. At least he _thought_ they were coins. They certainly didn't look like any coin he'd seen in his eleven years of life.

What came next was a crash course in Wizarding money. Seeing their confusion, the Professor was kind enough to put them out of their misery and explain the wizard money system, with common conversions, to them. Apparently, the gold ones were Galleons. They were worth the most, seventeen silver Sickles to be exact. And the small copper, maybe brass, looking ones were Knuts, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. In their small little sack there were a lot more Knuts and Sickles then Galleons, but that made sense given the conversion.

The Professor's explanation complete, they moved forward, once again following his brisk pace as they moved farther and farther away from the entrance to the alley.

* * *

Charlie focused the majority of his energy on following the Professor as he pointed out another shop, the accompanied explanation of its general purpose lost to the growing crowds surrounding them. 'Geez, this is helpful and all, but I really hope he doesn't expect us to remember all of this,' Charlie thought as he missed yet another explanation for shop they'd just passed. It was nice of the Professor to tell them all about Diagon Alley, it would likely be dead useful next year when they had to make the trip on their own, but they were going a bit too fast for the information to be _really_ useful.

Glancing up at the Professor as they continued their journey, Charlie noted the scowl still etched into the older man's face. It had been a near permanent fixture since they left that wand shop, Ollivander's wasn't it? Okay, so maybe it had snuck its way onto his face about halfway through their wand search, but that was kind of understandable. It _had_ taken a while to get both their wands.

'I hope he's not too mad,' Charlie thought as he continued to look at the man. His eyes were held straight ahead, neither looking to the buildings he addressed, which was a pretty impressive feat, nor glancing down at them to see if they understood. Clearly, the Professor had a fairly high opinion of them as he seemed to expect them to just understand and remember in detail everything he said. Maybe it was a bit _too_ high because Charlie could really use a little clarification on what they were seeing.

It was all bright colors and loud noises, a real sensory overload. And each shop seemed to specialize in _something_. Though he couldn't be sure, he'd thought he'd seen at least two pet stores, one that looked like your garden variety and another that seemed to only sell owls which he thought might be cool, if you were into that type of thing. There had been at least two clothing stores too, although he didn't think they'd be able to afford either of them. Hopefully, there was one more that he'd missed. He couldn't say he'd be surprised.

And strangely enough, he _thought_ he saw a store selling _brooms,_ just brooms, which had of course reminded him of their school list. It really was a good thing that Harry was almost always _over_ prepared for things, because Charlie hadn't taken the time to slip back into their cupboard to grab his supply list. Though he'd probably tease his brother later for having his list on him, apparently he'd decided to carry it with him at all times, he was overly thankful right now. After all, it had allowed them to save face with the kind Professor who had brought them here to get said things.

Thinking about their school list brought Charlie back to their first purchase. Fingering the wand box still grasped tightly in his hand, Charlie grinned. This all felt real now. They were wizards, the proof was in his hands.

Of course that really didn't change the fact that their trip to Ollivander's had taken such a long time. Almost an hour for just two wands, Charlie wondered how the man could do business with that type of time consumed. Maybe it didn't normally take such a long time. After all, Mr. Ollivander did seem rather surprised to find out that Harry was left handed. Of course Mr. Ollivander _was_ a rather creepy old man. Didn't he know that you were supposed to ask for someone's name even if you already knew it?

It was a good thing the Professor was there to steer the conversation. Charlie was sure the creepy old man would have talked and talked on just about anything. He did seem to have an unusual fixation on the wands he sold, but the Professor was there to keep the chatter to the bare minimum.

Again, although he'd hoped the Professor wasn't too angry, Charlie could understand the frustration of having to wait that long. After all, it had been only one of the many items on the list. If even _half_ the other items took that long, they'd be here all day. Charlie was sure the Professor had better things to do with his time.

By the time the Professor stopped, they were back near the entrance, not quite at the pub, but close enough that there wasn't a whole lot separating them from it.

"You," the Professor began, pointing a long finger in their direct, likely for clarification although at this point Charlie wasn't entirely sure it was necessary. After all, who else would he be talking to? "Will meet me here." Again he paused briefly, hand pointing to the spot they were currently standing at. On a cursory glance, he noticed they were in front of a Cauldron shop. "In one hour to obtain your potion ingredients and supplies." He paused to eye them skeptically as if wondering just what he ought to do with them. "If you're anything like your father, which unfortunately I suspect you are, than you will require all the assistance that I can provide in that area," he finished before turning to leave.

Charlie barely had time to register that the Professor had referenced their father for the second time today before his words finally caught up with him. "Wait," he called after the retreating back of the Professor. "How will we know when an hour is up?" he questioned once he knew he had the man's full attention. "We don't own a time piece."

Seemingly ignoring his question, the Professor turned swiftly back around, pausing only a moment to lift Charlie's rapidly crashing feelings. "Follow," the older man commanded before moving forward, taking the same brisk pace as he had before.

Rushing forward with Harry by his side, Charlie mentally cursed his short legs. If only he were a bit taller, then keeping the Professor's pace wouldn't require so much effort.

Finally, after arriving at the newly familiar ornate building, the Goblin Bank, the Professor made an abrupt stop. Turning back to face them, the Professor lifted his arm to point above him. There nestled next to the Goblin Bank was a clock tower. Unsurprisingly, Charlie had managed to miss it the last time they were here. "There that is your time piece," the Professor announced before lowering his arm. "Make sure you get everything else from your list," he finished curtly before turning to leaving, his black suit disappearing down a dark alley.

Taking a note of the current time, Charlie grinned. So they would get that adventure they'd always wanted after all. Turning to his brother beside him, Charlie asked the only question he could. "So, where to now, Harry?"

* * *

_AN:_ So that the next installment. Again we own nothing. Our other works are coming along slowly but surely (actually I have no idea when I'll know what happens next with Gohanna and Videl, but other than that...). Everything that has a schedule should stay on schedule, but just barely (I'm looking at you PoK). I've written pretty much everything for chapters 11 and 12 of TPoA, but they need some heavy editing. That, and I want to finish up chapter 13 and the story before I post either one of them. So, I'm behind schedule on my sole projects. At least this is going alright...

Until next time,

KJ

PS. Yeah, that's just a random rambling of conscious. Hope I got everything...


	6. Chapter Five

_**Chapter Five: The excitement of a less than normal life**_

_Taking a note of the current time, Charlie grinned. So they would get that adventure they'd always wanted. Turning to his brother beside him, Charlie asked the only question he could. "So, where to now, Harry?"_

Harry looked at his brother in thought, green eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement behind black wire frames. That was indeed a good question, but not one he could dwell on for long. After all, an hour to get everything _was_ a strict time set. He would need to think quickly, decisively. While he'd never had to make these types of decisions before, he felt as if he could do this. He'd always had a rather sharp wit, a quality that normally got him in trouble more often than not. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage now.

Focusing on the task before him, Harry evaluated the facts. One hour left little room for error or exploration. Their best bet would be to move as efficiently as possible between stores. They were going to have to do this as streamlined as possible. There would be no opportunities to back track.

Lucky for them, Harry had been paying as much attention as he could to their surrounding area, even before the Professor had taken the time to explain many of the shops. He'd internally cataloguing each shop, its general purpose as well as its location as they'd moved up and down the alley. Already a map of the area had formed in his mind. Every sound, every shop, even the general movement of the witches and wizards that surrounded him he'd managed to catalogue from the start of their journey in Diagon Alley. Stored neatly in his mind, he'd taken in everything.

And of course it had helped that he could rely so heavily on his brother. A tight grip on his brother's shirt, his only tether to the world that continued to move as he soaked in every detail. With that one hand held tightly to his brother, he'd been able to gaze around them without worry or fear of being left behind as their brisk tour continued. The map forming within his head ready to be stored away so that it could be brought back for later use.

This was what he was especially good at. While Charlie had a tendency to think one move at a time, living only in the now and _sometimes_ what might happen tomorrow unless he really took the time and put his mind to it, Harry always thought in at least three steps ahead. Unless he was unusually agitated, he was constantly thinking about the future. It was his natural state and probably what kept him so positive when compared to his rather pragmatic older brother.

So he'd deemed it a necessary action. Taking in every detail as best as he could so that his internal map would be as accurate as possible. It was imperative that he'd been so detailed because he was sure the Professor would not be able to come next year to help. They would have no guide, no assistance, but that would be more than okay. After all, that was how they already lived. Maneuvering through this life with no one but each other. So it was easy to plan for such an occurrence.

Today, he was to absorb all he could so that tonight they could prepare for the future. Together once they were back in their cupboard, they would talk and Charlie would draw out the map of Diagon Alley. Charlie, far more the artist than himself, would take the words from Harry's better memory and weave a perfect copy of the map that floated through Harry's mind. It was how they made all their maps, including the ones to the library and the park. And Harry had anticipated making this newest map tonight. However, it would seem they would need his map now.

Flicking quickly through his internal map of the Alley, Harry quickly drew up a plan. They had an hour, and Harry already knew where they'd start. Besides, there was really only one perfect plan of attack for getting the rest of their supplies. "Come on, Charlie," Harry spoke softly, his internal thought process only having taken him seconds. With a tug to his brother's baggy shirt, Harry pulled Charlie further down the alley. They were heading back toward _Ollivander's_.

While they already had their wands, _Ollivander's _was at the very end of the alley. However, more important than the wand shop was what was across from it. Ever observant, Harry had noticed what could only be a junk shop, _Odds and Ends,_ while they'd been walking out of the wand shop earlier. As a rule, second hand shops like this one were _always_ the best place to try first.

"Oh, good idea, Harry." Charlie nodded when he finally spotted the shop sign. No longer ignorant of their destination, Charlie took the lead, stepping in front of Harry as he led the way into the dark shop. Harry gave it no mind as he followed close behind. His brother was just protective like that. He'd always placed himself between Harry and any new situation. It was just his way and no matter how often Harry explained he could take care of himself, he couldn't change his brother's mind.

Stepping into the shop was like stepping into another world altogether. Bright colors and loud noises filling the air as trinkets and gadgets moved on their own accord. The place would have been completely overwhelming on a first glance, however, Harry reminded himself that they were wizards now. So he soaked in all the unusual, the abnormal and looked again.

On his second look Harry realized that although many of these trinkets were interesting, given what he could see of them, they all seemed fairly useless. In other words, the place appeared to be full of _junk_. Wizarding junk with a sprinkle of regular items filtered in, but junk nonetheless. Piles of baubles lined the walls and aisles in bins and on shelves. Many of them just floating above their appointed bin. Several seemed to escape their original area to hang randomly in the air above them. However, that still didn't change the fact that it all did seem to be just junk.

Even from here Harry could tell that the majority of the objects were broken. Multicolored sparks shooting into the air at odd intervals. Strange sounds bursting from random gizmos every few moments. All in all, it was pretty much a shop full of trash. Wizardry trash, but trash nonetheless. Still as the twins well knew, one man's trash was another man's treasure. With any luck they'd be able to find a few of their school supplies here underneath it all.

Harry turned to share a look with his brother. A quick nod as they silently communicated the current plan of action. It was time for a good old fashion search. Splitting up, Harry shifted to the left as his brother moved to the right as they began their search. Divide and concur was the saying after all. Walking down each row slowly yet not too slowly as he was ever mindful of their limited time frame, Harry trained his eyes on the trinkets lining, or floating above, each bin as he moved. Searching methodically in an attempt to pick up anything from their list.

There were many interesting gadgets, all mostly broken of course, but no cauldrons nor phials. There was just nothing _practical_ here. His glasses covered eyes still searching, he paused at the sight of on an old pocket watch, but then quickly moved on. They were not here for that.

Halfway through his section of the search, Harry finally spotted something from their list. There in one bin filled with multicolored spyglasses and a broken hand mirror that was attempting to open and close on its own were a few telescopes. Two of them were broken beyond his ability to repair. The lens cracked or so deeply scratched that they would need to be replaced.

While Harry loved science in general, and had in fact done a simple but rather interesting project on the reflection of light through different solids, he did not believe he had the skills to repair the damage here. Simply put, the level of physics and simple craftsmanship needed to create a lens with the right angles to use for star gazing or anything really, was just beyond him.

Luckily enough the third and final used telescope had an untouched lens. There were of course several dents and scratches on the outside of the tube, but the lens itself was perfectly fine. Unfortunately, there were two of them so they would need two of these scopes.

Frowning slightly at the discovery, Harry tried to push the problem aside as he continued his search. Carrying the best telescope with him as he continued down the aisles, he soon realized how futile his attempt was. There was just no way he could return his full attention to the job at hand when such a glaring problem still existed. He wasn't Charlie. He couldn't just ignore problems. He unfortunately loved solving them so much that it just ate at him until he figured it out.

As such when he returned to his search, he was only half focused. His mind was now mostly on the problem of finding only one telescope. Of course they had other options. After all, they could always find a real shop and buy the other one new. But that was just not something he really wanted to do, not when it would result in his brother having to use the used one.

And Harry already knew that would be the case. He could see it now. Charlie would insist that Harry use the new one. And even if he managed to convince his brother to switch off on who used the new and the used one, Harry was sure that somehow _he_ would be the one always using the new one. It was just the way Charlie worked. Overly persuasive with his words, Charlie could convince just about anyone to do as he asked if he put his mind to it. There would just have to be another way around the issue.

Only half focused on his search by the time his thoughts had stopped circulating, he'd finished his search with nothing else to show from it. With his telescope in hand, Harry made his way back over to Charlie. "What'd you find?" Harry asked as he watched his brother lean over a dusty box. Charlie leaned back in reply revealing a box of glass phials.

The phials were covered in dust and cobwebs, several of them obviously cracked and broken, but that was more than okay because there seemed to be four complete sets within the box. At least that was how it appeared. And given that only a few of the phials out of the whole box were cracked, there was more than enough phials there for them to compile two complete set. All in all, it was a jackpot find.

"What'd you find?" Charlie asked as he nodded to the object in Harry's hands.

Harry handed the telescope over for Charlie to take a look at. "I only found the one, but what's the likelihood we can't share this one?" he explained. It was the best plan he could come up with that wouldn't result in Charlie taking the blunt of the burden. Hopefully, it would work.

Charlie nodded as he handed the telescope back. "Best case scenario: we don't have class together. I can use it during my class and you can use it during your class. Worst case scenario: we're in the same class and they don't let us share. We'll just have to ask to see if they have school telescopes we can use, maybe an older student can sell us their old one at a discount." Charlie looked around before he continued, "Either way, we'll be okay. Now, one more sweep."

It was a statement more than a question, and Harry's nod as they switched sides to search was more habitual than anything else. This was really just routine.

Born from years of cleaning and looking for change in the Dursley home, their search system was nearly perfect. They would split the room allowing for fresh eyes to search each part of the room with a small break before they switched sides. The second time around didn't always pick up anything new, but when it did the results were usually worth the few times it didn't. While it didn't hurt that Charlie had slightly better eyesight, often times Charlie's rather short attention span made it beneficial in both ways. Loathed as he was to admit it, it was just as important for Charlie to have a look over his side as it was that he look at Charlie's.

As it would have it, the second sweep yielded four sets of brass scales. Found on his first side likely due to having his attention elsewhere rather than due to Charlie's better eye sight. Either way, with the scales found, Charlie immediately went to work finding the two sets with the least amount of damage. Once identified they took their items up to the front to purchase them. Leaving the shop shortly after. They rushed outside on their way to their next stop. After all, they had many more stops to make. They really couldn't dally.

* * *

Unlike _Odds and Ends _the second hand robe shop, _Twice-Tried Thread_, was one of the first things Harry had noticed on their way to _Ollivander's_. Only a couple of shops down, the store had stood out for one reason or another, allowing its image to sear itself into his mind's eye. Strangely enough, or maybe not so much if he really thought about the highlights of the Professor's tour, the brief tour hadn't mentioned the shop. Instead pointing out _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions _likely the preferred robe shop in the alley given that it was the only clothing shop out of the three that Harry had seen mentioned on the Professor's tour.

Of course Harry would have been glad to patron the shop recommended by the Professor kind enough to take them on this trip except for one inescapable fact. No matter how he looked at it, it just didn't seem as if the shop sold used clothes. It had taken him no more than one thorough look of the outside of the store for him to make that particular conclusion.

Now he didn't think that the Professor was cruel enough to recommend a store they couldn't afford with the money he'd provided them within their small bag. He was relatively certain that the Professor had taken the time to calculate and parcel out the required funds needed for them to buy their supplies at the shops he thought appropriate. However, Harry was also aware this was all they were going to get for the year.

Even now, he was dreaming of the possibility of buying Charlie a Christmas gift. A _real_ gift. Not something pieced together with whatever he could find around the Dursley home. Nor something salvaged from the dumpster nestled at the back of their former Primary School building. Nor something lifted from a street corner, abandoned by its owners and mostly waiting for the weekly rubbish run. No, he was looking forward to getting him a _real _gift. Something that he _**bought**_with his own money.

But unfortunately that was a dream that only had a possibility of coming true if they bought their supplies second hand. They had to save as much wizarding coin as possible. Pinch and scrape at every opportunity. So instead of heading to the recommended robes shop, Harry led Charlie a few stores down from _Ollivander's_ to _Twice-Tried Threads_.

Upon entering Harry was filled by the nice quiet feel of the place. Only a couple of families meandered about the shop, filling the area with a low rumble of noise that chased away the uncomfortableness of absolute silence. At just the barest of a first look, Harry realized just how nice this place really was.

Walking slowly into the shop proper, Harry took in his new surroundings. Neat and tidy, the shop had robes of all kinds and colors lining the walls in racks and filling bins on the open air floor. There were colors so outlandish and bizarre that he found that he really could _never_ imagine how anyone would _want _to wear it even for a moment to try the material on, let alone actually donning on the robes in public.

There were rows upon rows of robes and cloaks. Racks filled with all shapes and sizes. And bins. Bins filled with hats and with robes and much more. Each placed within corners and erratically throughout the shop. Given that the Dursleys rarely took them shopping, the last time was several years ago when their Primary School had suggested an update on the prescription for their spectacles, Harry was almost overwhelmed by the sight. It really was just magnificent.

Shifting his gaze forward, Harry spotted his brother already halfway to the black robes section. Shaking his head lightly, he fell into a slight jog in order to catch up. Apparently, Charlie hadn't taken his eyes off his goal, which really wasn't anything new. After all, when Charlie had a task at hand he focused all of his attention on it, attempting to complete it as quickly as possible to accommodate his shorter attention span.

As a result, he often got blinders, placing anything and everything else into the background. It was useful with projects, that single-mindedness able to push and drive through difficult or boring tasks without pause, but Harry thought his brother missed out on the little things sometimes.

Moving as quickly as he dared in the public space, it took Harry a moment to catch up. As a result, by the time Harry had finally managed to reach his brother, Charlie was already pulling a slightly faded black robe off the rack. Robe held up in one hand, Charlie moved to hold the material up against Harry as if measuring it by eye. "Think you could fit into this?" he asked cheekily. The robe was three times his size, and a foot still swept the floor even as Charlie held the robe as high as he could above his head.

"Ha… ha… ha" Harry laughed dryly, the sound of which causing Charlie to burst out into a peal of laughter of his own. Charlie might have had a one track mind sometimes, but he could always find the fun of any endeavor.

His mirth having finally run its course, Charlie put the robe back on the rack. Together they moved further down the aisle to the smaller sizes. Every once in a while as they made their way to the opposite end, Charlie would pull a robe off the rack and without words Harry would immediately turn around. Holding still so that his brother could hold the robe up to Harry's back in order to obtain a quick measure.

This was a familiar technique. They'd used it dozens and dozens of times to modify their Dudley hand-me-downs, and neither of them thought that this should be any different. As it was, Harry was always the model, Charlie the better of the two of them with a needle and thread, but Harry didn't mind at all. Of course it didn't hurt that he got to do a little less work in the process.

And although it wasn't as good as trying it on, it was time saving and would get them close enough to their size for them to wear it comfortably. At least it had worked with Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs, so really this should be a piece of cake.

Diligently perusing the selection, soon enough, they found the section with their size. Working together, they pulled down five more, attempting to get robes of the exact same size. Surprisingly enough, there seemed to be more than enough there for them each to have three.

Unable to resist, Harry pushed his load into his brother's arms. Taking one from the top of the pile, he shrugged it on, pulling the ends together as he spun quickly for Charlie's amusement. The material on, Harry let his hand run down the length of it. The fabric was wonderfully thick and heavy. Not frayed and worn through usually resulting in what little heat their small bodies produced escaping into the cool English air.

It would be a godsend for Charlie, who ran cold to Harry's hot, but Harry didn't think he'd be uncomfortable in them. No, he looked forward to donning this material on in the very near future. The billowy material odd now would make for an excellent change of pace from what they had to wear now.

It was nice really, how the hems were neatly stitched and the cloth was only slightly faded. But the best, most important thing about these robes were the fit. These would be the first items of clothing that they'd own that wouldn't need heavy alterations to fit.

Really, they were already ten times nicer than their Dudley hand-me-downs. Unable to contain his excitement at the thought, Harry spoke, "These look really nice; don't you think, Charlie?"

Charlie smiled in return, waiting patiently for him to take the robe back off before responding, "They sure do, Harry. Now on to the cloaks!" Charlie emphasized the point dramatically by raising his finger as if leading the cavalry. How he managed the movement ladled down with six robes was beyond him, but it didn't stop Harry from laughing. Chuckling softly at his brother's antics, Harry pulled half the pile from his brother's arms before they made their way towards the cloaks.

Jovial as they searched the section, their good mood soon turned rather sour as the time dragged on. More than five minutes of looking later, splitting up and searching every black cloak of the section, and they were still coming up empty.

Which was more than a little surprising given just how many cloaks the shop held. No, there were plenty of cloaks. And there were _loads_ of black cloaks, and an ample amount with silver fastenings. There just didn't appear to be any in their size.

Charlie huffed in frustration at the cloak in his hands. Even Harry could tell the cloak would drag four inches on the ground when they put it on, at the very least. Still, this was the only section that was narrow enough for them in the shoulders. It was in fact, the smallest section of black cloaks with silver fastenings available.

"We'll just cut the hems of these, Charlie. No big deal," Harry tried to console. But his brother was still upset, and Harry couldn't say he was all that surprised. After all, Charlie just wanted Harry to have something as nice as the robes they'd just found. That wouldn't happen if they had to hem them.

If they hemmed them, then the edges would be sloppy and uneven. A poor imitation to neat edges of their new robes. Still, Harry didn't really care. The robes were nice enough, and the cloak would at least fit well. Hemming really was a minor detail.

"Finding everything alright lads?" Harry was interrupted from sharing his thoughts by the shop keeper.

"Ah, yes sir," Charlie replied hesitantly, his hands still gripping the too long cloak.

"Thank you for asking, sir," Harry added turning slightly back to his brother and the task of convincing him that their hem work would be just fine.

However, the shop keeper did not immediately go away like he'd once seen a startled looking young woman when Aunt Petunia had done a version of the same tactic several years back. Instead he took a long look at the cloaks in their hands and the rack they'd gotten them from. The man rubbed his short gray beard in thought before he spoke again, "Huh. Those look a bit long for you lads, and I don't think I've got any shorter. Why don't I hem them for you?"

Harry looked over at Charlie with a slight shake of his head. His dream of buying a Christmas present wouldn't happen if they spent the extra money on hemming. A neat edge and nice appearance just wasn't worth the added expense.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't afford that. We still have a lot on the list yet to buy. I'm sure we can hem them when we get home," Charlie spoke for the both of them as they both moved to face the older man.

"Oh, going to Hogwarts I see. Wouldn't have guessed it, but you know what I can do. I'll give you the Hogwarts discount."

"Hogwarts discount?" Harry replied hesitantly. There were no signs or mention of Hogwarts discount anywhere in the store. Nor did Harry think it was common place for a second hand store to add discounts on top of their already discounted prices. But Charlie didn't hesitant.

"Really? That would be fantastic!"

"Good, good. Now hand me those cloaks, and let me get your measure." A quick wave of his wand and a measuring tape appeared out of nowhere. Harry stilled as it rolled out and measured him within the blink of an eye. The old wizard looked at the tape measure and nodded to himself before moving to the front of his shop with the twins hot on his heels. He hadn't bothered to take a second measure, but given that he and Charlie were exactly the same height, Harry gave it no mind. There was a reason they only used Harry to measure their cloths after all.

In awe of the swift confident movements of the shop keeper, they watched as he pinned the material down and began the process of hemming their two cloaks with several elaborate flicks and twists of his wand. With one hand on the robes, the old man pointed to a section in the back of the shop, "The hats will be in the bin by the sock back there. And you'll want some every day robes too. We've got a sale going on for those robes in the bin." His hand moved to a different section, sweeping the store until they landed on a large set of bins overflowing with robes. Harry's eyes made note of the location before training back to the shop keeper.

"What do we need every day robes for?" Charlie questioned, confusion clear in his eyes as he eyed the list in Harry's grasp.

"Ha… You can't be going around Hogwarts in your school robes all the time, now can you!" the old wizard spoke with laughter in his voice. "You'll wear them out!"

"Oh… They didn't put that on the list," Harry replied as he took a look at his list once more. He'd long since memorized it, but it never hurt to double check. And just as he'd thought, everyday robes were not on the list.

"Oh, I'd assume they wouldn't put everything on the list."

Harry looked down in worry. What type of school didn't tell them everything they'd need? What else wasn't on the list? "How are we supposed to know what to bring then?" He questioned softly.

"Well if you want, I can take a look, and add anything else you might need?"

Harry shifted his gaze to his brother, exchanging questioning looks as they debated the offer. With a shrug as if to say 'what could it hurt', Charlie answered for them both, "That would be great, sir."

"Now, go grab your hats and pick out some robes. I'll be right here with the rest of your purchases to ring you up."

Moving quickly to the appointed bins, they picked out the first pointy hats that fit their heads. Not bothering to waste time on trying out some of the more outlandish hat styles. Perhaps, next year they'd have more time to dally, but for now they'd already spent more time then they probably should have here. And of course it didn't hurt that they were far more excited to try on and pick out their everyday robes.

As it was, they'd never gotten to buy clothes just because. The Dursleys had only purchased those things that they absolutely could not get from Dudley's hand-me-downs. And even then, they didn't actually get to shop for those things.

Of course, their excitement was also boosted by possibility. If these robes were of the same nice quality as their school uniforms, then they'd be some of the nicest things they owned. It was that possibility of owning something of real worth that really spurred them on.

The twins found the bin with their size written on the side easy enough. "How many do you think we need?" Charlie asked as he picked up a robe at random. Pink with yellow strips. Only a blind person would wear something that gaudy. "They're not exactly the most fashionable things."

"Well, if we both get two, then we'd have a total of four everyday robes. That's got to be more than enough right?" Harry replied as he started digging around in the bin. He caught the nod of agreement from his brother out of the corner of his eye as he took to the other side, digging around for something decent on his own.

It didn't take long for Harry to find a nice green robe, while Charlie pulled out a charming dark blue one.

"You know I really wanted a red robe, but then we'd look like a Christmas holiday," Charlie spoke jokingly as they compared picks.

Harry picked up a decent looking dark red almost maroon robe that he'd spotted seconds before, "Really? Because I was planning on getting this, but if you insist…" He trailed off as he slowly put the robe back a smile on his lips.

"No, no," Charlie replied in a rush as he grabbed the robe. The robe was pretty nice if Harry did say so himself. "This will do just fine."

"Hey! Now, I've got to find another robe," Harry spoke with a wide grin covering his features. This was fun. Shopping.

"Look this red one looks just like the one we've just gotten. Now we can be twins!" Charlie said cheekily. Harry sighed at the joke. Charlie loved telling bad jokes. Bad jokes and puns. Although Harry wasn't sure there was really a difference.

Smiling, they make their way to the counter. Charlie handing the robes over to the shop keeper who folded them nicely next to their school robes. Harry noticed gloves with the rest of their purchases. They'd not bought gloves. Not to mention, Harry would have noticed if the second hand shop even sold gloves.

Seeing his gaze the shop keeper explained, "I found two pairs of dragon hide gloves in the back. A little worn, but I think they just might fit you, lads."

"Oh… Dragon hide?" Harry was sure dragon hide was a lot like leather. So much more expensive than the other materials.

"We were going to get something a little less…" Charlie began, but was interrupted by the shop keeper.

"Nonsense, these are just rotting in the back. I insist you take them at a reduced price."

"Well, alright," Harry replied hesitantly. He wasn't sure where the old man had gotten the gloves, but they would be happy to take them. One less stop for them.

"If you insist," Charlie added.

"I do. Now, let me ring you up."

Harry had been keeping track of the amount they were at even adding a reasonable Hogwarts discount of 10% off. With the price of the hemming and the added cost of the gloves, that would bring them to one galleon and three sickles. It was more than they had planned to spend, but probably much cheaper than buying the same amount new.

Pulling the money out, he's stopped with the kind man's next words. "That will be ten sickles, lads."

"Ten are you sure?" Harry replied in surprise.

"Yup, with the Hogwarts discount it all comes to ten sickles." Harry hesitantly pulled out the ten sickles sure the man would change his mind at any second and charge them the correct price, but he didn't. "Now, for that list."

Harry allowed Charlie to gather up their purchases as he pulled out the list from his pocket, handing it over. The poor piece of parchment had been in and out of his pocket all morning. He would really need to start looking at it less if he wanted it to still be intact by the time they got back to the Dursleys.

"Hum, well this is a good list, but you're going to need a few extra things," the old wizard replied kindly.

"Like what, sir?" Harry asked, curious as to what else they would require.

"Well for starters you'll need a trunk."

"A trunk?" Charlie questioned and Harry had to agree. Why ever would they need one of those?

"Yes, a trunk to carry all your school things. Now unfortunately you need one for each of you, but why don't you run down to _Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment_. Mention I sent you and the old man that runs the place should give you a decent price."

"Ah sir, we're really thankful for all your help," Harry began politely.

"But there's just one problem," Charlie continued immediately where Harry left off.

"We didn't get your name." They finished together, looking up at the old man in unison.

"Oh, well that won't do. Where are my manners? I'm Wynn Argall at your service. You tell old Wiseacre I sent you and he'll work something out for the trunks. Now the other things you'll need that're not on the list. You're going to want a writing set. Quills, ink, and lots of parchment. There's a shop on the other end of the alley, _Scribbulus Writing Instruments_, which provides all that." The old man paused as he rubbed his beard in thought. Nodding to himself he continued. "That should really be all your need to buy for your first year. You'll want to bring more of you muggle cloths, undergarments and some hygiene supplies, but you'll probably have some of that already. Now, you lads run off and get the rest of your things."

"Thank you, sir!" The twins sang together. Truly excited to have met such a kind man.

"No problem, just remember to come back next year and tell me all about how your year went."

"Of course, Mr. Argall. You'll be the first to hear about it."

They turned to leave with their things in their hands, but were stopped by Mr. Argall before they could move away. "Wait lads, I forgot to ask. Did you want me to shrink that for you? At least until you get to the trunk shop?"

Harry turned to look at Charlie in question. He didn't realize they could shrink things. Shrinking opened up a whole world of new possibilities. One glance at the full loads in both of their arms was enough of an answer.

"Yeah, sure that would be great, Mr. Argall." Charlie relied as he began handing their stuff back to Mr. Argall.

"Just not these two," Harry added as he took out two of the plain black robes. These would be for the trip to Hogwarts.

Once Mr. Argall shrunk the items, they were off once more. "Have a good year lads," he called to them as they left the store.

* * *

Harry strode into the bookstore, _Flourish and Blotts_, a step behind Charlie with a rather jovial pep to his step. It hadn't taken them very long to get their trunks, not at all. They'd entered the magical luggage store, the walls covered from head to toe with magical items, mostly trunks for whatever reason, and headed straight for Mr. Wiseacre. Like Mr. Argall, he had been nice enough to advise them on their purchase, forewarned of their limited funds by Charlie. And soon enough they'd been leaving the shop with two simple, but sturdy trunks.

And the best thing had been how nice Mr. Wiseacre was. Taking the time to shrink their second trunk and even placing a feather weight charm on their newly packed trunk, he had been a virtual godsend. In fact, it was now so light that Harry didn't even mind letting Charlie carry it. That said, wizards sure were nice people.

Now they were in _Flourish and Blotts_ to get their school books, a task Harry thought would be just as quick. Pulling his list from his pocket, Harry gave it a quick look, cementing the titles into his mind one more time. Finally ready to find their textbooks, Harry led the way.

Glancing down each aisle, Charlie was actually the first to spot the sign. Written in big block letters were the words 'first years'. It was a rather convenient way of marking the required first year books.

Pleased with the find they both moved. Harry walking down the aisle with one hand out, running along the spines of the brand new books. They were all pristine, wondrously neat and tightly bound. Hand coming away from the last book on the aisle, Harry followed his brother to the sectioned off area.

There on their own display were the required first year books. Each as new and as beautiful as the books lacing the many selves of the aisle they'd just past. Harry felt as if good fortune was truly smiling down on them.

Well, that was until he heard his brother's sharp intake of breath. Glancing in concern at Charlie, Harry caught his eye. That look hidden in green eyes behind black wire frames could only mean one thing. Taking his eyes from the quality and condition of the books, Harry's attention turned to the price.

A deep sigh passed Harry's lips as he did the math quickly within his head. Two sets of these books would be expensive, too expensive if they wanted to have enough money left over for holiday gifts.

"Maybe they have a used section," Charlie spoke at the dishearten look on Harry's face. Charlie had always been perceptive like that when it came to people. He always just knew how they felt and what he could do to cheer them right back up. Or just console them, if joy really wasn't an option.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry replied, his spirits lifting somewhat. "Let's go look around."

Thankfully, it didn't take them long to find the used books section tucked off to the side in a corner near the back of the store. While not a huge selection, at only a quick glance, Harry noted that all of their required texts seemed to be here.

Like with the newer version, Harry ran his hand along the spines of the used books. Their spines were worn and the covers were faded, but they weren't all that bad. And as long as all the pages were still there, they had nothing to complain about, not really.

A few minutes later and the twins held a pile of books in their arms, each sporting their required materials. Charlie had the nicest of the lot, although Harry was sure he'd end up with that set eventually. Why they even bothered buying the two sets, when they'd likely only use the best set, he didn't even know?

"Wait," Harry whispered fiercely at his brother, an idea coming to mind. "Why don't we just share, like the telescope?"

Charlie looked over at Harry with a large grin on his face, "Yeah, that way we can get a few extra books instead!"

Harry hadn't even thought of that, but it _was_ a good idea. "Just remember only used, okay," Harry replied as he put his set of books back on the shelves.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." With that comment, they went their separate way. Harry staying in their current section as it was filled with material related to their five core subject areas while Charlie veered off, leaving their trunk behind.

Already knowing just what type of books he wanted to grab, Harry's search went by fairly quickly. In the end he grabbed five books, one for each of the subjects on the course list. It never hurt to get supplementary reading.

He'd picked up _Charms for Dummies_, a book that seemed dedicated to the basic Charm spells, including what the book called everyday household charms that every witch _and_ wizard ought to know. He also managed to grab _Transfiguration – How to not Transfigure your arm off_, a book that seemed to focus on the theory behind the very subject of transfiguration.

Similarly, he picked up _Potions – Unlocking the Secrets_, which based on the description would focus on techniques and ingredients rather than give a more comprehensive list of potions. And then of course there were _Dark Creatures for Dummies_ and _Herbology – It's a Plant Thing_. Both of which gave lists and further explanation of the subject within. With these books in hand, Harry felt like they could really tackle the wizarding world for the first time. They could do it. It was in their blood.

Once the books were in hand, Harry waited patiently for his brother back at their trunk. It didn't take long for Charlie to hurry over to him. Glancing down at his hands, Harry took note of what Charlie had managed to grab. _Quidditch – A beginner's guide _for which he wasn't sure what that was, _Magic Now – Popular Culture Explained Easy_ which sounded dead useful, and _Hexes and Jinxes – Beginning Level Spells_. Harry frowned at the last one. He hoped they wouldn't need something like that.

Their things paid for, they left for their next stop, _Scribbulus Writing Instruments_. It was a little overwhelming with so many choices. There were inks of every color. Even ink the color of the rainbow, literarily. It seemed to change colors in the very bottle, as if someone had travelled to the nearest rainbow and bottled the substance right there, although he knew it was physically impossible at least he thought it still was. Harry briefly wondered if it would change colors on the page or if it was stuck on the color it landed on once quill hit parchment, but that was a thought for another time.

And it didn't end with just hundreds of inks either. As it was, there seemed to be an equal amount if not more of quills, each of a slightly different variety. So it was understandable that he felt overwhelmed, however, when in doubt always grab the cheapest.

A plan in hand, Charlie went for the quills and ink, while Harry went in search for parchment, a rather easy find all things considering. On a whelm he picked up a hand full of journals that were on sale. Ten for a sickle. They might have use for them yet.

Items purchased, they left the store as quickly as they'd entered it. Slowly they made their way to look at the clock tower to check the time. "We've got everything but the potions supplies like the Professor asked. What next?"

Looking at the clock Harry replied, "We've got nearly twenty minutes left. You think we could stop for a snack?" He'd seen that one ice cream parlor several times now. And his willpower was only so good. Not to mention they still had a good amount of money left.

"Yeah, I don't see why not." Charlie didn't move though, "Oh wait, I forgot to get something. Nothing too expensive. I'll just need two sickles and a handful of knuts." Harry nodded to his brother as he handed him the money. Carefully counting out fifteen knuts. He was sure he'd find out what Charlie wanted with the money. "Thanks, I'll meet you at the ice cream place once I'm done."

"See you then," Harry replied as he watched his brother disappear into the crowd. He was actually glad for the time alone as he also had something he'd been thinking about doing, buying really. Once Charlie was out of sight, Harry moved in the opposite direction.

He'd really hated having to drag Charlie past that pet shop, but he hadn't been sure they could afford anything in the place. Now looking into the bag, he felt confident he could splurge a little and give Charlie his first birthday present. Sure it was a day late, but at least he wouldn't have to wait for Christmas.

_Magical Menagerie_ was a noisy little shop, but there was no way they'd be able to take care of an owl, so this was the best Harry would be able to do. One quick look at the prices and he moved steadily away from the cats. For now, the cats were just way out of their price range, but maybe some other time. So, no owls or cats, which meant the only thing left would be a toad.

Walking down the reptilian aisle, Harry ignored the snakes and lizards, which was a rather difficult feat given that he thought he saw one of them rapidly changing colors while another seemed to float, and went straight for the section of frogs and toads. Not entirely sure how strict the professors would be about the toad thing, he ignored the selection of frogs as well.

The toads didn't have a particularly large section, but he was sure he'd find something. Moving rather quickly, Harry's eyes skipped over neon colored toads, bright green, pink and yellow, each glowing a different color on that neon spectrum. He moved away from a toad that appeared to be singing, at least he thought it was singing although that voice certainly shouldn't belong to an animal. He avoided the toads that looked ready to explode, their warts big and bubbly, an angry red as one seemed to even pop on the animals back.

Finally his eyes stopped on a rather simple green skin toad. It had safe looking red warts and a very non-magical yellow strip along its back. He looked really cool, more importantly, Harry could see Charlie playing with the little guy.

"Natterjack toad, huh?"

Harry jumped at the sound of the old witch behind him. "Excuse me?"

"That toad is a natterjack. You want her right?"

"Uh, yes. Yes ma'am," Harry answered hesitantly. While it was nice to know that this toad was in fact of the female variety, it didn't stop the fact that this old woman really freaked him out.

She snorted in a very unladylike manner as she picked the toad he'd been looking at out for him. "Not many kids looking for toads these days," she stated as she placed the toad, cage and all on her checkout counter.

"Oh?" That was surprising, he'd have thought most witches and wizards own them. Of course, that could just be something his stories had made up, but still.

"Your first toad, I'm guessing."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thought as much," She nodded as she began pulling out an assortment of extra items. "You'll need a proper tank and heating pad. The pad's got a charm on it that's got to be renewed every few years."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you'll need some food, and some water dishes," she continued as she placed each of the items on the counter.

Harry swallowed heavily. This was starting to sound expensive. "Ah, could you get me the cheapest. Please."

The old woman looked up at him behind her thick, heavy black rimmed glasses. A quick glance over, making Harry feel a little subconscious. He'd been wearing regular work clothing, so he knew he looked, well, not the proper type. "You going to Hogwarts, lad?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry hesitated before adding, "My brother and I are going this year, and I wanted to buy him a pet."

"Good, good. A first year. I can give you the Hogwarts discount." She pulled out a small handbook. "This will tell you and your brother all you need to know about owning a toad. The food will last two months. Send me an owl, Natterjack, and I'll send you some more food. I'll put it on your tab."

"Thank you very much," Harry replied as he picked up his brother's new toad and all of the supplies.

"Now, there's one more thing you ought to know about this particular toad."

"Oh, really?"

"She's a mood toad," the old woman answered. Harry stared at her confused. What was a mood toad exactly? "Here, pick her up," the woman commanded, waiting patiently for him put the supplies down so he could pick up his new purchase.

Hesitantly, Harry pulled the natterjack into his hands. Slowly the toad changed colors. Shifting from her natural green skin to a near peridot shine, her warts and dorsal strip left unchanged. Shocked at the sight, the natterjack in his hands began to turn orange, shifting colors again right before his eyes.

"Like I said, a mood toad." Harry nodded excitedly as he placed her back into her cage. This was more than he'd hoped for, but surely Charlie would only like her more. "Now off with you," she continued as he hurried to pick the supplies back up. "And stay out of trouble." He heard her call as he left the shop.

* * *

Exiting the pet shop with Charlie's new toad, housed safely in her cage which was currently tucked inside the much larger tank right next to the other supplies, Harry made it to _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour_ before Charlie. More than willing to wait for his brother, Harry found a table in the corner and settled down. Charlie had taken the trunk with him so there was no way to hide the present, but that was fine too. He would just have to pay close attention so that he wouldn't miss the look on Charlie's face when he finally noticed his gift.

Uncharacteristically unable to sit still, Harry found himself fiddling with the tank as he waited. Charlie would love the toad, he was sure. Of course Charlie always seemed to love any gift Harry gave him, but Harry wasn't entirely sure that meant he _really_ loved it. After all, his brother had been known to say a lot of things just to spare his feelings.

Forcing his hands to stay in place, Harry looked up to find Charlie approaching him with a shit eating grin on his face and his hands behind his back. And then Charlie spotted the toad. His grin lessened to an honest smile as his eyes lit up with joy. Whatever devious plan his grin had signaled long forgotten with the discovery of the toad.

"Harry, you didn't…"

"I did," Harry replied instantly, a large grin on his face. "Happy Birthday Charlie. Even if it's a day late." As Charlie moved to grab the cage from within the tank, Harry spotted something in his hands. "What's that?"

Charlie looked down in confusion before his excited grin returned to his face. "Oh that?" Charlie grinned even wider as he shoved the item into Harry's hands. "Happy Birthday Harry!"

Harry looked down in his own hands to find a tinker set. His very own tinker set. No more borrowing tools from Uncle Vernon's tool shed in the dead of night. Harry blinked away tears. "This is perfect. I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"Great, I thought you could use it to fix _this_ up," Charlie added as he handed Harry a broken pocket watch. The same pocket watch Harry had seen in _Odds and Ends_. Harry rubbed the beginnings of tears from his eyes. Grinning broadly at his brother, Charlie's eyes shone back at him in happiness. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Thanks Harry," Charlie patted Harry on the shoulder as he continued, "I can't think of a better way to celebrate than with_ ice cream_."

* * *

They decided to take their double scoop of strawberry and vanilla ice cream to go so that they could be assured to not be late for the Professor. This time they took their time as they walked slowly back to the cauldron shop to wait for the Professor.

Walking briskly towards them, the Professor snarled at their ice cream. "Figures you've found time to stuff you face with sweets."

'I guess the Professor doesn't care for ice cream,' Harry thought as he finished off the last of their ice cream, gripping Charlie's toad's tank and supplies tighter in his other arm.

At the sight of the animal, the Professor turned his nose up in clear distain, but said nothing. While he clearly had a problem with toads, he seemed to have better things to do then comment aloud about it. Of course that was more than okay, it wasn't like the Professor could like everything. No one could. Instead he walked briskly into _Pottidge's Cauldron Shop_. Without speaking or waited for them the Professor got to work, pulling down four pewter cauldrons and two stirring rods.

"Professor, there's only one cauldron needed on the list," Charlie questioned, eyeing the extra items skeptically.

"If you're anything like your father, then two cauldrons a piece might not be enough."

"What about the stirring rods, sir?" Harry replied, just as curious as his brother. Briefly, he wondered how well the man knew their father. It seemed that the man they knew nothing about had been a wizard like the Professor. So perhaps they'd gone to Hogwarts together. Maybe they'd even been best friends before he died.

"How do you expect you're going to stir any potions?"

Harry exchanged a look with Charlie who shrugged. Potions sounded like it was going to be a real challenge. He was glad the Professor was taking the time out of his busy day to help them.

A couple shops down found them in _Bobbin's Apothecary_ for potions kits. The twins followed the Professor as he pulled ingredients down from the shelves along with the beginners' kit. He raises an eyebrow toward his brother at the extra ingredients, voicing his thoughts without words. Charlie half shrugs in reply. A gentle slight shake of his head to tell him not to question it.

Nodding in return, Harry had to agree. There really was no point in voicing the question. He was beginning to think that potions might be one of the classes the Professor taught.

"Good afternoon Professor Snape," the tall gangly shop keeper greeted the Professor once they reached the counter, respect lacing his every word.

"Mr. Godsby." Professor Snape nodded in greeting. "These will be all for today."

"Mentoring students in the art of potion making, sir? How generous of you Professor."

"Yes, with any luck they won't be completely incompetent in my class."

Harry grinned as the two adults confirmed his theory. He so loved being right. Snorting at the comment, the shop keeper nodded before sending a quick good bye. "Good day, Professor."

"Good day."

Once out of the shop, they only had a small moment to place their new purchases within the confines of their new trunk before they were back though the _Leaky Cauldron_ and Flooing to Mrs. Figg's house.

Briskly, Professor Snape walked them to the door ignoring Mrs. Figg entirely. In turn she ignored them as if it was normal for people to pop in and out of her fireplace. Harry watched his brother shrug at the sight as they stepped outside. Once there, the Professor turned swiftly to them, handing an envelope to Charlie as he spoke, "Your tickets for the train. You can see your way back I'm sure."

"Yes, sir. Thank you Professor for taking time to help us get our supplies."

Professor Snape nodded in acknowledgement, "I do hope that you put my book to use before stepping foot into my classroom. I will _not_ tolerate incompetence."

"Yes, sir," they replied together. In a crack of sound, the Professor was gone, their words having just barely escaped past their lips.

"Wow. That was awesome!" Charlie spoke in excitement, turning to Harry with glee alight in his eyes.

"Yeah, I wonder when we get to learn that," Harry replied as they turned to walk back to the Dursleys. Professor Snape sure was helpful.

* * *

**AN:** So what do you think? Snape is still a jerk. Why would that be any different? But of course that seems to go right over the twins head. I like to think it was to character given the circumstances. No owls, couldn't justify the expense. Can't wait for the twins to find out they have loads of money. Oh well, that's for another time.

KJ

PS We don't own anything.


	7. Chapter Six

_**Chapter Six: Our New Normal, Part 1**_

Deft hands moved with practiced ease across the kitchen counter as Charlie assembled the last of the sandwiches. Here in the darkness of the Dursley kitchen, he felt a barely constrained glee as he continued to make their food for the day. Their breakfast, egg and cheese sandwiches, had been made and set aside, ready to be eaten at a later time. Probably once they'd made it safely to the platform that would whisk them away from here. Away from the dredged reality that was the Dursley residence.

Yeah, that was probably best. Certainly, it beat any chance that existed of them being found out, hunched over breakfast sandwiches as they munched away. Really it would be just their luck for Aunt Petunia to wake up early and catch them in the act. Not only eating before her precious Duddykins but with no plans of producing the large feast that made up the large Dursleys' breakfast.

As it was, he'd barely had the courage to turn on _one_ burner for the few minutes it took to fry two eggs. Ever cautious of Aunt Petunia's light sleeping and sharp ears, Charlie hadn't even bothered to turn on the overhead light for the stove. Which was why he was currently working in the dark kitchen using muscle memory and the limited light that bathed the kitchen every time he opened the refrigerator door to make their snacks for the day.

Granted, the moon was high in the sky, the soft pale glow lighting some of the area surrounding him, however, Charlie still found himself working more on memory than anything else. Which was fine. It wasn't like sandwiches took all that much effort anyway. It was one of the many reasons he'd decided to make them instead of anything else. And while he would have preferred to toast the bread, he was sure Harry wouldn't mind a few limp, possibly soggy, sandwiches.

He just wasn't willing to risk turning the one burner back on. Rightly weary that the soft tick of the gas stove would be too loud, bring Aunt Petunia and her endless wrath down the stairs to punish them. He felt as if he was pushing it already, the lingering smell of their freshly fried eggs still hanging in the air around him. He'd cracked a window not too long ago, but the smell still reminded. No, he certainly wouldn't start adding to that now not when they needed to continue moving quietly, making as little change to the household as possible. After all, if they got caught pilfering food, Aunt Petunia's temper would definitely be the _least_ of their problems.

As it was, Charlie was more worried about Aunt Petunia's guaranteed punishment interfering with their ability to reach Hogwarts. They could run of course, but they'd likely have to leave things behind, and there was no guarantee that they'd even make it to Hogwarts if that happened. No today was not the day for taking such risks. _Today_ was the start of their newest adventure.

Already, they had every detail planned out, with more than one plan to execute it. But all of those plans centered on the Dursleys _staying_ asleep. All would be for naught if they managed to get themselves locked in their cupboard. And for what reason? Because he'd wanted to make his task a little easier, the sandwiches a little tastier? No. He'd never risk their future for something so small.

Packing up the last sandwich, corned beef with a small squirt of mustard and a single leaf of lettuce, Charlie eyed the kitchen clock critically. It was almost a quarter to four in the morning and he was finished with his appointed task. Harry wouldn't meet him in the kitchen for another fifteen minutes. Perhaps now was a good time to raid the cupboard.

Crossing the kitchen in a few quick strides, Charlie made it to the pantry in no time at all, pulling the door open to gander at all of Dudley's snack foods. Their preparations were going smoothly now. It probably helped that they'd done most of their packing and preparations the day before, finishing the blunt of the task before asking Uncle Vernon to take them to Kings Cross.

That of course had been plan A. Convince Uncle Vernon that he wouldn't be going out of his way to ferry them to the London Train Station. While that option didn't allow for them to prepare snack foods for the train ride, it did guarantee them means to actually make it to the train. Plus, it didn't hurt that they could still wake up early and search the couch cushions for change. With any luck, Charlie would have made the family breakfast, meaning they'd have at least that meal and Harry would have found enough money to get them something small on the train.

Of course that plan was all moot and point now considering what had happened when they'd actually asked the man for a ride. Simply put. It hadn't gone over very well. No, their uncle had laughed first. Loud and hard, thinking that they were trying to pull one over on him. Then when he'd calmed down enough to realize that they were serious, he'd exploded. Sending them to their cupboard for the rest of the day without the evening meal all the while screaming something about 'how _dare _they?' and 'freak schools' and 'wasting his time'.

Which was fine. After all, they'd planned for such an outcome as Uncle Vernon was known for his short temper. So, they'd had small bits from breakfast waiting in their cupboard for just such occurrence. Which was why now they were going with plan B.

Pilfering as many of Dudley's snacks as he could, Charlie heard his brother enter the kitchen behind him, but he didn't turn away from his task. The cabinet was full of snacks, stuffed to the brim with sweets and crackers and biscuits. All of which were supposed to last Dudley the week, _maybe_ two depending on his mood. Even so, Charlie was sure the snacks just in this _one_ arm load would last them several months, maybe even half the term if they rationed it. Of course he didn't plan to stop at just this one arm load so they wouldn't likely need to go to such lengths. Which in his mind was always a good thing, since they didn't know how the food at Hogwarts worked.

Perhaps they were on a meal plan and they only had a certain allotment of meals for the whole term. Given that he was sure they were on some kind of scholarship for the underprivileged, Charlie was pretty certain they'd be on the smallest plan. Who knew? Maybe all students brought snacks. It certainly wouldn't hurt for them to bring some either way.

Turning around with his arms full of snacks, Charlie eyed his brother grinning at him. He'd never admit aloud, but Charlie actually regretted not asking for pamphlets. Not that he wanted them for the same reasons as his brother. After all, he was far more practical than Harry. But it certainly would have helped to know how Hogwarts worked when it came to things like this. Like meal plans, room and board, and just _how much_ their scholarship covered. Really, it all would have been rather useful to know.

"So how much did you find?" Charlie asked as he dumped his snack load on the counter, turning back to go grab another.

"Take a look," Harry replied with glee as he carefully dumped two fistfuls of coins before reaching into his pocket for more. The two fivers were easy to see in the pile of crumpled up one notes. "I haven't gotten the chance to count the coins, but I'd wager we've got nearly forty pounds."

Charlie nodded, duly impressed with what his brother could find in the Dursley living room, most of it likely from the couch cushions. There was a reason they'd split their tasks up in this way, because when it came to money, Harry was just better with it. He could find it in places that Charlie would miss while also managing to capitalize on opportunities to make more of it, no matter how small the reward.

And Charlie, well, his specialty was in the kitchen. And it probably helped that he was sure to convince the Dursleys that _he'd_ been the one to raid their refrigerator and take Dudley's snacks. Although he wasn't sure how much it would help, as the Dursleys couldn't always tell them apart and tended to punish them both to ensure they didn't miss the real culprit. Still, he had to try. In truth, he was really banking on the full school term to help the Dursleys forget this particular transgression.

"You done here?" Harry asked as Charlie dropped his second load. Charlie looked at their haul. While there were more snacks in the cupboard, Charlie wasn't one hundred percent sure they'd be able to carry any more than what was on that counter.

"Yeah," Charlie replied with a nod as he grabbed for their largest pillowcase. He'd set it aside this morning along with their only sock still mostly intact, no holes to be seen, for just this purpose. Pushing the snacks in first, Charlie's gaze wandered, catching Harry as he shoved the money into the sock. When Harry looked up, Charlie placed both their lunch and breakfast in on top before shifting his head towards the stairs. "Now let's check Dudley's second bedroom," he stated as he left the kitchen, setting their food down by their already packed trunk just outside of their cupboard.

Together they ascended the stairs, sneaking into Dudley's second bedroom so that they could do one final check. Splitting off at the door, Charlie taking the right side of the room while Harry took the left, they slowly made their way through the room. They worked carefully using their hard earned patience so as not to blow their cover by making too much noise.

Carefully shifting through broken toys, finding the odd coin or note as he went, Charlie thought over the excitement of the last month. Really, it had been something else. So packed with new things, exciting things as they learned so much about their new world. In all honesty it was probably more reading then he'd done in one setting in the entirety of his life. And that included the one time they'd been banished to their cupboards for a whole summer, only allowed to come out to do chores and eat a meager lunch of a single bread and cheese sandwich.

There had been nothing to do, but read their school books, going over the material they'd learned that previous year. While they'd somehow managed to get a handful of books from the local library, those books had been far too quick a read and they'd been left with revision. Which wasn't all that bad, but given that Harry was really the bookworm of the two, the limited reading was pure agony for Charlie. At least, he'd gotten really good a witling that summer.

So normally it would have been a pain to read through all those books, but magic was so interesting. It was new and _exciting_ in its own way, and it probably didn't hurt that one of his books was about Quidditch. While it wasn't _football_, the wizarding sport did sound rather exciting and fun. He'd discussed it at length with Harry during the wee hours of the night, and he just couldn't wait to play the game.

Of course he hadn't just read the book on Quidditch. No, he and Harry had read a bit on all of their core subjects. And outside of Quidditch, Charlie had found that some of their school work actually sounded pretty fun too. Like herbology and transfiguration. He'd always liked nature and gardening and now that he realized that witches and wizards put a premium on those types of things, he was really excited to be a part of their world. And if he wasn't excited before, the thought of turning one thing into something else entirely, transfiguring it, would have done the trick. It was just so fascinating.

And there were Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Both he and Harry liked the theory behind those subjects. In Charlie's mind, Charms was the subject that made a wizard a wizard. Out of all the fantasy books he'd read, all recommended by his younger brother, what made a wizard special and extraordinary were the spells he could do. Sure there were other parts, but Charms seemed to be the most important.

Of course Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting too. Just learning about a small section of the dark creatures of the wizarding world, who knew vampires were real, was exciting. He couldn't wait to learn how to protect himself and his brother from those types of dark magic.

Not surprisingly, Harry really seemed to take to magical theory and history. Both subjects nearly had Charlie falling asleep while he tried to read the _first_ chapter, but if Harry liked that type of stuff, then he wasn't going to get in his way. No point teasing his brother just because he could managed to keep his eyes open for that type of thing.

And then there was Potions. It was a subject that they also both enjoyed, but Harry had taken it to a new extreme. While he'd read nearly half the book, Harry had finished it _all_. Charlie shook his head at the memory as he pocketed another random note, this time a fiver. He knew it was mostly to impress Professor Snape when they took his class, but still…

Shaking the thought from his head, Charlie focused on the other things they'd managed to do over the month. Like practicing with the quill. For an hour a day, they'd practiced. They weren't the easiest writing utensils to use, but _he_ was finally getting the hang of it. Sadly, that was a hell of a lot more than he could say for Harry. Of course, Harry's hand writing had _always_ been rough, but now, with the quill, it was completely illegible. With any hope, it would improve with more practice. For now, Charlie just hoped the professors wouldn't mind too much.

Just then Harry pulled gently at his shoulder. "We've got to go, Charlie," his brother whispered as he flipped his pocket watch closed. Charlie nodded before turning about, ready to lead the way back down stairs. They'd planned to catch the five o'clock bus. And while the stop wasn't too far from the Dursleys' residence, it would take time to get there.

"We better get a move on then," Charlie replied as they moved, plucking Dudley's old skateboard from the room as they left. Well, it was more of a longboard, which required two hands and skilled movement to get it downstairs without accidentally hitting something. Even so, he was confident that their cousin wouldn't miss it. After all, the whale of a boy had at least four more like it, different shapes, sizes and colors, but they were all similarly broken and stashed about the room. It also probably helped that Dudley thought it was still broken. Charlie had hidden it well within the trash of Dudley's rejected toys as he'd worked on fixing the board. While Harry had spent that same time fixing up his watch.

Like the longboard, not a single Dursley knew about the watch. Which was great because that meant that Harry could take it everywhere without too much fear of having it taken away. And his brother was careful with the time piece too. Never pulling it out where a Dursley might see. Charlie had to admit that although he'd only gotten it for his brother because he knew he'd like it, it was nice having the watch around. Life was just easier when you didn't have to guess what time it was. They could finally set real, hard and fast schedules.

Back downstairs and by their things, Charlie didn't waste time in lifting their trunk and sliding the longboard beneath it. While the shrinking spells had lasted the long month, the charm that had lightened the load, which they now knew was a featherweight charm, had long since dispelled. That of course had been the primary reason Charlie had spent so much time and effort fixing the longboard.

They'd spent a lot of time developing plan B. It was just great that it was all coming together. Trunk safely balanced on the board, Charlie unlatched the lid to stuff their pillowcase full of food inside before turning to Harry. "Here, hold on to this. We don't have time to count it all now," Charlie said as he passed his brother all the money he'd managed to find in Dudley's second bedroom.

Charlie didn't wait for his younger brother's nod before turning back to their trunk. Packed to the brim, it held everything they'd need and nearly everything they owned. Really, the only thing left within the small confines of their cupboard was their frayed mattress, the short desk and the small box they used as a dresser. But of course that wasn't really saying much given that they owned very little.

After a quick, but thorough look, Charlie nodded to himself. They hadn't forgotten anything. "Okay, let's get out of here," Charlie stated as he started pushing the trunk. Thankfully, it rolled easily, turning when he needed it to and without much fuss. They had two plans for making it to King's Cross. One was to take the bus all the way to the station. A lengthy trip when all the stops and transfers were factored in. It would take a while, but it was the perfect plan if they'd been unable to find enough funds lying about the Dursley residence.

The second plan, and far more preferred, had them taking the bus and connecting to the national rail. It wouldn't take much longer than two maybe two and half hours with walking time included, however, the rail wasn't exactly cheap. Glancing back at the rather heavy looking sock held tightly within his brother's grip as they snuck past the front door, slowing down a bit to get over the steps safely, Charlie thought they might have the funds for the rail.

With any luck, they'd maybe even have some leftover. While he wasn't sure if they should save it for additional trips to and from Kings Cross or try to spend it before getting to Hogwarts, he figured they could figure that out later. After all, once they were on the bus, they'd have plenty of time before their next connection to count their haul. For now, it was time to go to Hogwarts.

* * *

As it turned out, they'd had more than enough for the rail. Which was good considering how much his brother liked to be early. This way, Charlie didn't have to spend the majority of his time trying to calm Harry down, especially since they'd arrived at the station at a little after 7:30 in the morning.

Even at half past seven, London was a wonderful place. Not as busy as he'd always imagined, but that probably had more to do with it being a Sunday than anything else. Pushing their luggage off the rail and onto the transfer platform, Charlie led the way to King's Cross. Only a short distance away, less than a block really, the walk was quick and soon enough they were standing next to the nearest table to their platform.

Looking up for their missing platform as they moved to sit and wait, their things loaded onto a trolley and the longboard tied down to their trunk, Charlie couldn't help but thank the kind Professor again. "Gee, it sure was a good thing Professor Snape was so thorough in his note," Charlie spoke, eyeing his brother as he sat across from him.

"Yeah, we'll have to thank him again for the trouble. I'm sure we would have never found the platform without his instructions."

Charlie nodded in agreement to the statement thinking about the detailed note that had accompanied their tickets to the Hogwarts Express. The Professor had described in detail, where the train was located, how to cross the barrier, and even all the relevant times including when the platform would be open and when the train would arrive. The complex system made sense in a way. As Charlie was sure the wizarding world wouldn't want just _anyone_ walking into their world.

"So, what should we do while we wait," Charlie asked as he dug into their food bag to grab their breakfast sandwiches.

"Well, we do have some extra money, and I did notice a shop nearby where we can replace some of our things," Harry replied while taking his sandwich.

Charlie nodded at that. They did have some extra cash, more than a little really even after grabbing the rail. And it _would_ be nice to find something useful, like new socks. Yeah, having at least one pair of socks without holes did sound pretty nice.

"Sounds like a plan," Charlie replied after taking a large bite from his breakfast sandwich. They'd need to finish up here first, but given that they had at least an hour before the platform was supposed to open they should have time. "Hey, Professor Snape's note did say the platform would open at 8:45 in the morning, right?" Charlie asked around a mouthful of food, knowing full well that his brother had memorized the short note word for word.

"Yup," Harry nodded, finishing his sandwich in the next bit. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Charlie replied as he stuffed the last of his breakfast into his mouth as he moved to rise from his seat. It wasn't often that his brother ate faster than him as he normally had half his attention on the Dursleys, but it did happen, especially now when there were so few people about to distract him. "Okay, let's go," Charlie continued as he got behind the trolley, ready to push, and let his brother lead the way. Harry _had_ already mentioned he'd had a shop in mind. It really was just like his younger brother to be so prepared.

Just as he'd expected, Harry led him straight to the nearest convenient store. He didn't bother reading the name knowing it wouldn't matter. Shops like these were everywhere, and came and went just as fast. The point was that convenient stores were all alike. He was sure they'd find toiletries, and if they were lucky socks.

Mindful of just where they were attempting to go, Charlie left the trolley outside of the shop, but in full view. It was always rather convenient to have such large windows at the front of the store. Now, he'd be able to keep an eye on their belongings without too much worry.

He moved to grab a little basket only to place it in his brother's hands before turning to move down the closest aisle. Grinning at the sight before him, he plucked up the nearest pair of socks. It must be his lucky day after all.

The socks in his hand were black with white strips and probably three sizes too big. "What cha think, Harry?" he asked, holding it up in front of his brother. The socks were longer than his face and as they swung in his hands the tail ends managed to nip his brother on the chin.

"I think," Harry began, taking a short step back, "You ought to find a pair that fit," he continued with a roll of his eyes, exasperated at Charlie's antics.

"Fine, fine," Charlie conceded, tossing the pair back into its proper place before taking the selection in completely. Really there weren't a lot of choices. Besides the few stripped pairs there were only two options, all black or all white. Which really wasn't all that surprising. They _were_ in a convenient store.

Also unsurprising was the general lack of anything in their size. There were mediums and larges and even the odd extra-large or two, but nothing that would easily fit their small feet. Not for the first time, Charlie silently cursed their small size as he plucked several pairs of black socks. The medium size would be one, almost two sizes too large for their feet, but they'd make do. At least, they wouldn't have holes.

Dropping the socks into the basket his brother was still carrying, Charlie ushered them both out of the aisle, spotting the rather pleased look on Harry's face as they went. Charlie sighed. One day, they wouldn't get so excited over the prospect of ill-fitting cloths or something as simple as a new toothbrush. But until then, this would have to do.

"Look at the bristles on this one, Charlie!" Harry stated excitedly, a green and white toothbrush held firmly within his left hand as he showed it off. Charlie smiled, absentmindedly pulling down his own matching blue one as he watched his brother enjoy the simple pleasures in life. Yeah, one day they'd have more, but until then, he was perfectly happy with moments like this.

Soon enough they had everything they could think of that the store supplied. Socks and toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste and a thing of floss to share between them, sunblock, a small first aid kit and several bars of soap, one that smelt like the mountaintops as Harry had a particular liking to it immediately, and their one splurge item, a small bottle of lotion. Really, Charlie couldn't remember a time when they were so well stocked.

They paid with mostly coins to the slight annoyance of the rather tired looking cashier and Charlie had their things stuffed as neatly as he could make it into their trunk. "What now?" Charlie asked, his gaze circling around the station for the first time. There was a bookstore a little bit further down their current platform, but he doubted he'd be able to convince Harry to spend that much money on anything else.

"Well, its twenty minutes after eight so we can just sit down and wait for the barrier to open," Harry replied, flipping his pocket watch closed as he stuffed it back into this pocket.

"Yeah," Charlie began, his eyes catching on the sweets shop just a few stores over. "Or we can get a little treat," he finished with a grin, confident that he could get his brother to agree.

"I don't know about that, Charlie," Harry protested, doubt clearly on his mind. "We don't want to spend too much."

"Don't worry, Harry. I've got this one covered," he replied before ushering his brother into the direction of the store.

* * *

"I think you were right, Charlie," Harry stated, licking the remnants of his half of their sticky bun off his fingers.

"I'm always right, Harry, but I'm glad you're finally admitting it," Charlie replied cheekily as he shoved the last of the sweet into his mouth. His brother's eye roll was nearly audible, and he couldn't help the laughter that erupted from him in response. He was just glad he'd managed to keep his food in his mouth and not sprayed across the table like their whale of a cousin had a tendency to do. Now that would have been embarrassing.

And of course the sweet _had_ been a rather good idea. It was one of the cheaper items on the menu, but more than big enough for them to share. And as an added bonus, purchasing and snacking on the treat had taken just enough time that the barrier would be open any minute now.

And really _that_ was the hard part. It was the moment of truth. Whether they both truly believed in this new world of magic. Because despite what they'd seen, this would still be a rather large leap of faith.

Standing up from his spot, Charlie consciously tried not to wipe his hands along his pants. His hands were still a little sticky, but that was why he'd gotten them extra napkins. After all, he'd hate to dirty their nicest pair of slacks. Well, second nicest as he'd forced Harry into the better pair by putting on this one before his brother could object. As it was, their cloths were already worn enough without adding the sticky coating from their latest treat.

Without words, he glanced at his brother, staring hard into his eyes as he moved behind their cart. The unspoken words of encouragement more than enough to gear them both up for this upcoming challenge. Leading the way, Charlie pushed their cart to the correct median, the one separating platforms nine and ten.

Staring at the red brick, supposedly not as hard as it would appear, Charlie glanced once more at his brother. "Ready, Harry?" he questioned, shifting his gaze back to the barrier in question. This was it. This was when they found out if this new world that they'd been reading and studying and dreaming about becoming a part of really existed. This was the moment that it all truly became real.

"Let's do this, Charlie," his younger brother replied, the hard edge to his voice mirroring Charlie's own thoughts. They were really going to do this.

"Okay on three," Charlie stated, nodding towards the barrier as he prepared himself. "One," he began, tightening his hold on their trolley.

"Two," his brother continued, his back straightening as he too prepared to run.

"Three!" they said together as they raced forward, running straight towards the brick median.

Charlie held his eyes open for as long as he dared, snapping them shut just as they reached the barrier as he waited for the inevitable. As much as he wanted to believe in magic and this new chance to _be_ someone, he felt something holding him back.

Perhaps it was the constant insistence from the Dursleys about the impossibilities of magic. Or maybe it was the nagging voice at the back of his mind reminding him that _he_ was worthless. Magical miracles like this didn't happen to a nobody like him. Either way, he waited for the hard crash that was sure to follow. It was sure to hurt, but it would be nothing compared to the sheer devastation that Harry would feel at having his dreams ripped from him.

But of course it seemed he had nothing to fear as the crash never came. Prying his eyes back open, Charlie dared to look at his surroundings. Decked in ruby red finishings, the platform was beautiful. From the barrier behind them announcing to the world that this was platform nine and three quarters to the tracks ahead of them, the scarlet hangings overhead proclaiming to all that this was the _Hogwarts Express_.

Although the train had yet to arrive and the platform was practically empty, they had _done_ it. They'd made it to the platform that was only minutes away from whisking them away from life with the Dursleys. And soon enough they'd be off to Hogwarts.

Slowing to a walk, Charlie pushed their trolley to the nearest bench to wait for the train. Quietly they sat, watching as the platform slowly came to life. Students, all older than them, and their parents crossing the barrier with smiles alight on their faces and they laughed and hugged and bid goodbye before finding what must be there friends waiting for them. They were clustered in small groups, some with books beneath their arms as they gestured wildly while others stood quietly, chatting amicably to each other as they too waited for the train.

Charlie wondered briefly if that would be them next year. Joined by friends as they waited to go back. He was just about to comment to his brother when a fury of movement by the barrier entrance caught his attention. Dashing through the entrance with a fury and determination he'd seen on only the most ardent of individuals, a girl with wild, bushy brown hair raced across the platform, her much more reserved parents following behind, staring in awe at their surroundings.

Despite her small size, she moved with a confidence that Charlie didn't see often. Self-assured that _this _was where she was supposed to be, Charlie didn't think she was too much older than them. No matter how confident she seemed, she just didn't strike him as having the same ease as the older students milling about on the platform.

"Dear, do slow down," her mum called after her as she moved with her husband, hand in hand.

"I can't be late, mum. This is _Hogwarts_!" the girl yelled, continuing her mad dash to the front of the platform. From the looks of it, she seemed to be determined to be the first on the train when it finally arrived. Stopping only when she reached the edge.

"Yes, pumpkin," her dad replied, hurrying his steps as he noticed how close she was to the edge. "But do take a step back. You do seem a bit close there."

In a huff of air she sighed, but stepped back. Charlie was sure she'd reply with some exasperated retort, but just as she'd opened her mouth the loud whistle of the train filled the air. Attention rightly ripped from the girl, Charlie watched on the edge of his seat as the train came rushing towards them.

"Geez, would you look at that, Harry," Charlie gasped, the sight of the scarlet engine leaving him practically breathless.

"This is it, Charlie," his brother replied, his attention equally captured. Charlie nodded in acknowledgement. Harry didn't need to say anything more because he already knew what he meant. This huge scarlet train, burning with a fiery red as the morning sun shown down on it, this was the start of their new world. A new beginning filled with endless possibilities.

Pulling from their stunned state of awe, Charlie stood, taking his brother by the arm as he led them to the awaiting train. They were more than ready to go to Hogwarts.

Pushing their trolley to the waiting scarlet engine, Charlie was surprised when several of the older students moved to help them load their things.

"Cool board," one of them commented as they showed them to a compartment. Charlie nodded absentmindedly taking note of their friendliness as they made sure they were okay before moving on to help others. First the Professor, then Mr. Argall and his friend Mr. Wiseacre, and now this. Really, at this point, Charlie should just face the fact that the wizarding world was just nicer then what he was used to.

Turning to his brother, Charlie eyed him before glancing at their compartment, "So, what now?"

Harry looked down, fingering the edge of his worn jumper before meeting his gaze again. "Change I think," he stated with a sharp nod, moving towards their trunk as he continued, "We'll probably need to be in our robes when we get there anyway."

Agreeing with his brother, Charlie moved to help him get the trunk down, pulling out their two robes so they could put them on. In all honesty that was probably the best option. They'd likely make a better impression on their new classmates if they looked prepared. Plus, it didn't hurt that their new uniforms looked a lot nicer than the clothes they had on now, even though these were the nicest things they owned.

Changed and seated across from each other, Charlie joined his brother as he stared out the window while they waited. They'd gotten there early, the train having arrived a little after nine o'clock and it hadn't taken more than fifteen or so minutes for them to get loaded onto the train and settled into their compartment thanks to the rather helpful older students. Both their tickets as well as the Professor's note had stated that the train left at eleven. All things considered, they were in for a long wait.

Of course that wasn't all bad. After all, they got to watch the commotion as more and more families arrived to the platform. And so much could be gained from observing their future classmates. Like how most of these early students seemed to all know each other very well, pushing away from family members, closely doting mothers and fathers, as they moved to reunite with their friends. Charlie would guess that their close familiarity probably meant that they roomed together, but maybe Hogwarts was just such an open and inviting place that everyone just got along.

That was a nice thought. The prospect of Hogwarts as a conflict free zone. No bullies. No busybodies. No high and mighty folks too good to mingle with the riffraff. It would mean that he wouldn't need to worry about someone messing with Harry. He could finally let go of the tactics that his younger brother distasted so much.

Truthfully, it would be a relief. Not that he minded the act of coercion, he just didn't particularly like doing things Harry disliked. That was, if he could help it. And now it looked as if he could put that into the past, saving it only for his dealings with their beach ball of a cousin for the few months of the year that they'd be forced back at the Dursleys'. He could certainly live that way.

Too excited to speak, Charlie continued his silent observation, noting that the mood of the platform seemed to shift as time passed. No longer were the reunions excited yet localized affairs. No, now there seemed to be an abundance of energy. Students excitedly gripping one another, some even going so far as to rough house, all good natured fun from what he could see.

And the excitement wasn't confined to the platform. No, that energy could be felt on the train as cart after cart filled. The rattling of doors filling the corridor. Soon Charlie was broken from his quiet observation by the sound of their compartment door sliding open.

Shifting his attention, Charlie spotted the dark face of an older student as he stuck his head into their compartment. "Nope, not this one. All filled up," he shouted over his shoulder, his dreadlocked hair shaking as he pulled the door closed.

Charlie shrugged as he turned back to his brother, about to comment on the sudden interruption and just as quick departure only Harry's attention was solely focused on the window. Taking a look himself at the sight that had completely captured his brother's attention, Charlie spotted a large pack of redheads grouped together near the entrance. They were easy to spot considering half the lot towered over their surrounding peers. That and the bright ginger hair atop all of their heads.

Charlie was just about to point out the rather large bunch, perhaps they were all related, when he was once again interrupted by the door.

"Oh, uh, hi," a rounded face boy greeted upon seeing them. Standing nervously at the door, he didn't move to immediately leave like the older boy before him, however, he didn't make a move to join them inside either.

A little confused at the sight, Charlie moved to stand, gesturing at the compartment with one hand as he spoke, "You're free to join us, if you like." He tried to keep his tone light and inviting, hoping that an invitation was all the other boy was waiting for.

Charlie's grin spread as the other boy's body visually relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping from his lips as he made the first step into the compartment. "Thanks," he stated, shifting awkwardly in his spot, his trunk pulled behind him.

They stood there for a moment, Harry still more focused on the proceedings outside then within their compartment to help him break the tense silence. Finally, exasperated with the tension, Charlie sighed. He was trying to be polite, but he only had so much patience for it. Really, at this point, he was more than willing to give up on it and just go with his gut. In fact, that sounded like an excellent idea.

Eyeing his silent brother once more, Charlie squared his shoulders and did the first thing that came to mind. "Here, let me help you with that," he offered, moving forward to grab the other boy's trunk. Their newest compartment mate followed behind, pulling the other side without words as they moved to put it away. "You want to grab your robe first?" Charlie asked before they made to hoist it up.

Nodding furiously, the painfully sly boy hurriedly opened his trunk to grab his uniform. The task complete and the black robe set aside, they pushed the trunk into the overhead bin with ease. "There," Charlie stated, wiping his hands off as he turned to the other boy. "I'm Charlie," he announced thrusting his hand out in introduction. He waited until his hand was weakly grasped before moving to continue, pointing his free hand at his still otherwise preoccupied brother by the window. "And that recluse over there is Harry," he finished with a firm shake, a grin to his lips as he met the other boy's eyes.

Stumbling over his manners the other boy rushed to answer. "Neville. Uh, Neville Longbottom," he replied nervously.

His grin only widening, Charlie continued, "Well, Neville Longbottom, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

* * *

**AN:** So that's part one. We're currently on schedule for the next two chapters, so there's that for all of those who are hanging off the edge of your seat waiting for it. It's a little slow, but the first book is kind of slow, so there's not much we can do about that. Still, I like it for the differences. There are so many moments that I just can't wait to write that this chapter and the next pretty much sets us up for. So, I hope you enjoy.

We still own nothing.

The twins do have a magically connection that won't/can't be explored until later. But no, they can't talk to each other in their heads. That would get real awkward real fast. I can't remember if there was any questions about twin related things. If your curious about something, go ahead and PM me about it. I'm trying not to read reviews until after I'm finished writing my other story (one chapter left and it's mostly complete). It's nothing personal. I just get really nervous readying reviews, and I don't have the stomach for it yet.

Thanks for reading.

KJ


	8. Chapter Seven

_**Chapter Seven: Our New Normal, Part 2**_

As it turned out Neville was actually a rather interesting bloke once Charlie managed to get him talking. With no help from his brother that was. As it was, he really didn't know what was up with Harry. It wasn't like him to be so rude, keeping his sole focus on whatever he'd seen out that window and only bothering to give Neville a quick hello when Charlie had elbowed him in the side.

Of course now that they were well on their way to Hogwarts, Harry had managed to reemerge from his lost thoughts and become an active party in their conversation at last.

"So you have an actual greenhouse full of these thing at your house?" Charlie questioned, genuinely interesting in what Neville had to say.

"Well, the greenhouse as well as some other things too. Gran likes to stock the majority of her own potion ingredients. There's actually a nursery for some of the more harmless magical creatures."

"And you get to just go in there and work with them anytime you want?" Harry asked, intrigued at the idea of open access to learning.

"Not yet. Gran won't let me in the greenhouse without supervision, but that might change after a few years at Hogwarts. You know, if I do well enough," Neville replied, the last of his statement spoken more to the compartment floor than to the two of them sitting across from him.

Charlie nodded at that, ignoring Neville's hesitance as there was little he could do to keep the shy boy's spirits up other than to continue their conversation. And it wasn't like the prospect didn't make perfect sense. Especially after what he'd read in his herbology textbook. "Oh I'm sure you'll do just fine. After all, you're already so far ahead of us in pretty much _everything_."

"Oh no, you're the _Potter Twins_. You guys will catch up in no time," Neville replied with that same reverent awe that he'd used when he'd first discovered their surname. Like it meant more than just a name or a title. Shrugging the comment aside, he figured he could ask about it later, Charlie pushed forward, far more interested in Neville's expertise on the wizarding world.

"So there are a lot of first years like us," he said, pointing between him and his brother. "You know, not familiar with all this wizarding stuff," he finished, moving his hand in a flare as he gestured around them.

"Well, yeah," Neville nodded, glancing between the two as he continued, "Gran's always talking about the growing number of muggleborns."

Charlie frowned at the term just as Harry voiced their combined confusion. "What's a muggleborn?"

"Oh, ah, a muggleborn is a wizard or witch born from muggles I guess."

"Wait, what's a muggle?" Charlie questioned, his brow furrowing at the thought.

"A muggle?" he paused, as if he'd never been asked to explain the term before. "You know, someone not magical."

"Okay, so regular people then?" Charlie replied. It made sense that there was a word for normal people if there was one for witches and wizards. Although he wasn't entirely sure he liked the way it sounded.

"Regular?" Neville questioned, a curious frown covering his face. "I've never heard anyone use _that_ term to describe them before."

"Oh really? Well, why do you call them muggles?" Harry asked. It didn't surprise Charlie, his brother was always curious about the meaning of things. He just loved to know _why. _It was probably what made him such a good scientist.

"Ah, because, well because…" Neville paused again, fishing for the right answer to their question. "You know I don't really know why. It's just what they've always been called I guess."

"Oh well, I guess if they've always…" Harry began, but Charlie cut him off.

"Now wait a minute, that's not a _real_ reason. You don't just call someone something just because that's what's always been done," he continued, heatedly raising from his seat. It reminded him too much of Aunt Petunia and the rest of the Dursleys. Looking down at people for no other reason than that they could. It reminded him too much of their old classmates, following Dudley's lead just because he was bigger than them. And it especially reminded him of everyone else at their old school. Just going along with it because everyone else was. And that just didn't sit right with him. "There must be _some_ meaning to the name," he finished, falling back to his seat as he trained his gaze back to his new friend.

"Probably, but I'm afraid I don't know what it is," Neville replied sadly. His shoulders slumped, downtrodden at not being able to clarify. Slowly, he began to recede into himself, crumbling as if he expected to be ignored or lashed out at for not knowing.

Startled at the change, Charlie rushed to reassure him. He didn't want their new friend to feel bad about something he didn't know, "Hey, don't worry about it." He paused, pushing himself forward so that he sat straighter in his seat. "It's really not that important anyway," he continued waving a hand in the air to push aside the current topic. "You've been loads of help as it is. Really informative."

At that Neville glanced up at them, hope coupled with surprise shining in his eyes. "Yeah, and Professor Snape might know the answer anyway. We can always ask him," Harry added, sensing the shift in mood and doing his part to help ease their new friend back into easy conversation.

"Who's Professor Snape?" Neville questioned, his curiosity helping to ease him out of the tight ball he'd wound himself into.

"The Hogwarts potions' Professor. He assisted us with obtaining our school things, and even managed to give us some very helpful advice on potions," Harry replied, eager to talk about the professor that had helped them so much with their things.

"Advice? What kind of advice?"

"Always have extra ingredients, always have a spare cauldron, and read the textbook chapters in advance," Harry clarified easily.

"Yeah, and also stirring rods are apparently important," Charlie added, vividly remembering the encounter that had resulted in that extra purchase.

"Really? None of that was in my letter."

"Well, the letters didn't mention a lot of things, like trunks and extra robes, quills, ink and parchment," Charlie stated only slightly annoyed by all that had been missing from their list. Really if it hadn't of been for Mr. Argall they'd be sorely unprepared for their stay at Hogwarts.

"Oh, you do have a point there, but Gran didn't mention anything either," Neville replied worriedly, a hand coming to rest on his round chin as he thought. Then suddenly, his eyes widened as he gasped in horror, "Oh _no_!"

"What?" Charlie asked, while his brother voiced the same concern.

"Is there something wrong?" Harry questioned simultaneously.

"I didn't do any advance reading other than looking through the Herbology book and classes start tomorrow," Neville began, his fear and nervousness escaping in a rush of worried questions. "What am I going to do? What if we were supposed to read ahead for _all _our classes? How am I ever going to do well if I'm already behind? How am…"

"Okay, just take a breath," Charlie interrupted, sure that if Neville didn't stop to breath soon, he'd faint. "You don't have to do this alone."

"Yeah, we've already read a little on all our classes and we're more than happy to help," Harry assured, taking Charlie's cue without being told.

"Really?"

"Of course," they spoke together, determination lining their similar voices.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Harry continued shyly.

Neville smiled brightly before it vanished in an instant, "But what if we're not in the same house?"

"House?" Harry questioned, the prospect completely foreign to them.

"What do you mean by 'same house'?" Charlie clarified, his concerned peaked.

"You know, _house_," Neville replied, his worry momentarily forgotten in light of their ignorance of the wizarding world. "The group you live with and study with and have class with for all seven years," he paused as if waiting for them to recognize the concept now that he'd given them some background. "You mean you really don't know about the different houses?" he finished, his shoulders dropping momentarily as he realized just how deficient their knowledge was.

"No," Charlie stated with a shake of his head, troubled by the notion that he might not be able to stay with his brother. They'd never been separate in their lives. Frankly, he wasn't sure he was ready to experience that now.

"Is it _that_ important?" Harry asked, nearly voicing the primary concern for the both of them.

"Well, yeah, a bit," Neville replied with a hesitant nod. "It does determine who your friends are."

Shocked at the statement, it took a minute for Charlie to wrap his head around the idea and by then Harry had already asked for clarification, "You mean you can only be friends with people from you own house?"

"Maybe?" The statement came out as more of a question as Neville was clearly hesitant to answer that definitively. "Gran says that you get along with people from your own house better than anyone else."

"But that doesn't mean you can't be friends with other people right?" Charlie inquired, zeroing in on the hole in Neville's statement.

"I guess?" Still clearly unsure of the correct answer, Neville shrugged, sinking further into his seat in the process.

"Then don't worry," Charlie replied with a grin, pleased that there didn't seem to be any rules barring interactions with other houses. "We'll still be friends even if we're not in the same house," he finished with a firm nod.

"Thanks," Neville stated his smile returning as he slowly pulled himself up from his hunched position as he finally seemed to accept that he wasn't getting rid of them any time soon.

"That's what friends are for." Charlie replied confidently as he traded looks with his brother. Harry's smile growing wide in response.

"So Neville," Harry began, "About these houses?"

Spurred by Harry's question, Neville nodded as he rushed to explain, "Oh yeah, well, there are four different ones," he began, his hand raised, four fingers prominently displayed for emphasis. "And Gran always explains it this way. Hufflepuff is for the loyal. She says those are the types of people that you only have to befriend once then they'll stick with you forever. It used to help her sway the Wizengamot back in her youth."

"Wizengamot?" Harry questioned, interrupting Neville in the process.

"That's the council of witches and wizards that oversee our laws."

"So, like a parliament then?" Harry pressed, always curious to know more and make connections with this new world to their old one.

"I don't know," Neville frowned, brow furrowed as he thought over the analogy. "I've never heard of a parliament before."

"Well they're elected officials that oversee the laws of England and all the United Kingdom," Harry clarified easily. That slight lift to his words letting Charlie know that his brother was two seconds away from regurgitating everything he'd learned over the years.

"I guess they're sort of similar, except nobody elects the members of the Wizengamot."

At that statement, Charlie chanced a glance at his brother. And there it was. That pure glee that preluded a long diatribe of information that would be useful for absolutely nothing in the long run. Hopefully, his brother would be able to restrain himself. It would really suck if Neville was scared off because Harry wanted to show off just how much he knew.

"So it's more like the old House of Lords, or the Curia Regis, or perhaps even the various Witengamots of Anglo-Saxon rule?" Harry continued, and Charlie was just glad he'd managed to be blessedly short.

"The what?" Sighing, Charlie rested his head in his hands as he waited for the long explanation that would surely follow.

"All old non-elected precursors to our modern Parliament," Harry began, pausing to take a breath before letting it all out in a loud huff. Charlie glanced up just in time to spot the completely bewildered and mildly overwhelmed look painted across Neville's features that had likely caused his brother's rapid deflation. "I did a report on it once," Harry said instead, his gaze shifting away.

It was kind of sad. Clearly his brother _really_ wanted to talk about the precursor governing and advisory bodies of England, but he also didn't want to completely lose their new friend. Charlie almost relented, he hated seeing him disappointed over anything, but Harry's instincts had been correct. And it would be a real shame to scare off their first friend just so Harry could feel better in this temporary moment. In the end, his brother would be happier with a new friend, then anything satisfaction he'd get from his long diatribe.

"Anyway," Charlie stated, breaking up the silence in the process. "We're just getting off topic."

"Okay," Neville spoke after a moment, gathering his thoughts as he attempted to get back on track. "Well, you've got Hufflepuff. And then you have Ravenclaw. They're the type that love to learn. Gran calls them the 'knowledge is power' folks. Excellent if you need to know something because they'll either know it or be intrigued enough about the mystery to help you figure it out."

Charlie nodded his understanding, immediately thinking about his brother and how that seemed to fit him most. He didn't like it because it didn't really feel like _him,_ and he didn't really want to be separated from Harry. But he did want Harry to be happy, so if that was where he wanted to go, then he'd be okay with it.

"Then there's Slytherin," Neville continued. "They're ambitious. Gran says to a fault, but I'm not entirely sure what she means by that. Anyway, I think the current Minster of Magic was from that house, and he's been leading the wizarding world for as long as I can remember although I don't know how much that's worth."

Charlie frowned at the self-deprecating tone. He was going to have to find ways to help Neville get around that. He'd read enough books to know that it couldn't be very good for his health.

"And finally, you have Gryffindor." Neville paused, a wistful look covering his features as he sat back into his seat. "The house of the brave," he finished, a clear longing in his tone.

"I guess you want to be in Gryffindor then?" Charlie asked quietly, sensing that this was an emotional subject for the other boy.

"Yeah, my mother was a Gryffindor," Neville stated before shifting his attention out the train window. Silence filled the compartment as the statement hung in the air. Charlie wasn't sure what had happened to Neville's mother, but with just one look he knew his new friend truly admired her, missed her.

The air charged with tension, Charlie moved to do what he did best, provide a distraction, "So Neville, what can you tell us about Quidditch?"

Thankful for the change in subject, the conversation easily shifted to the easier topic. Quidditch, as it turned out, was not a subject their new friend knew a lot about. Which was fine. That just meant that they'd be learning the wizarding sport together. Well, maybe that wasn't the correct notion because in truth with all Charlie's reading on the subject _he_ was technically the resident expert.

In the end, they'd spent at least an hour on the subject with mostly Charlie explaining what he knew and Neville either agreeing that it sounded correct or simply shrugging that he wasn't quite sure. It was disappointing on one hand to be unable to strengthen his knowledge on the sport, but gratifying that he was so far ahead in at least this area.

Of course, his disappointment could have been lessened by his growing hunger. The mild ache only somewhat distracting. Glancing quickly at his brother, he noted the same look he assumed was on his own features. Really, it must be well past lunchtime by now.

With that thought, Charlie rose from his seat, reaching into their bag to grab the sandwiches he'd made earlier that morning. He'd managed to make eight simple sandwiches and while that would have been more than enough for just he and his brother, now he had Neville to worry about as well. They couldn't very well eat in front of the boy without offering him some.

Shrugging, Charlie pulled the sandwiches from the bag. There wasn't anything he could do now, they'd just have to make do with what they had. Returning to his seat, Charlie moved to pass the food around but was stopped by Neville, "Oh, you don't need to share with me. I'll be fine."

"Really? Okay, well, we'll wait for you to grab your lunch from your pack then," Charlie stated as he leveled his gaze onto their newest friend.

"Well, I didn't bring a lunch, but I'm sure you didn't bring enough to share with me."

Charlie frowned, looking down at the rather limp sandwich in his hand. Even wrapped, it wasn't the most appealing thing to eat and for the first time that day, Charlie was a little ashamed he couldn't offer more. "You know, if you don't like sandwiches, you don't have to eat it. We know it isn't much," Charlie replied. He really couldn't think of another reason why Neville would turn down the meal.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just…" He paused, searching for the right word.

"What is it, Neville?" Charlie asked, his patience running thin.

"Well, I don't want to eat all your food."

"You needn't be so concerned, Neville," Harry replied instantly.

"Yeah, we've got more than enough to share," Charlie added. While not completely true, Charlie had no trouble telling this little white lie. It wasn't like anyone would notice. "And it wasn't like I was going to give you the whole lot."

There Neville laughed at his cheek, smiling shyly as he reached to take one of the sandwiches. "If you're sure."

"Yup," Charlie replied, pushing three of the sandwiches into his hands before doing the same with his brother. "Honest, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure," he continued, the lie easily slipping from his lips.

"Thanks," Neville stated with a grin, already removing the plastic from one of the sandwiches. "I actually skipped breakfast."

"What? Why?" Charlie asked around a mouthful of sandwich, too curious as to why anyone would willingly miss a meal to bother with observing proper etiquette.

"I was much too nervous," he began, happily munching on the sandwich as he spoke. "I didn't want to risk losing my breakfast on the platform, or worse the train."

"How very practical of you," Harry noted, already on his second sandwich.

Nodding, they continued their meal in silence, finishing quickly before stuffing the wrappings into the rubbish bin in the corner of their compartment. Lost in amicable conversation following their meal, the sound of a knock on the door was rather jarring.

"Hello dears, would you like a treat from the cart," a dimpled, smiling woman asked as she poked her head into their compartment.

One look at Harry and Charlie already knew that answer, they'd splurged too much on other things as it was they would not be able to indulge here. "No thank you madam," Charlie replied, keeping his tone light. His attention on the woman, Charlie didn't notice when Neville moved to get up pulling wizarding coin from his pocket at he approached the woman.

"I'd like to buy a few sweets if I could," Neville asked shyly, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the compartment.

"Of course dear, what would you like?"

"Oh, I'll just take a few of these," he replied, pausing for a second before grabbing something else on the cart as well, "And a few of these too," he finished before paying.

Curious, Charlie barely waited for Neville to return to his seat before asking what he'd gotten.

"Some Cauldron Cakes," he said, passing the chocolate candy to the two, "And…"

"Wait," Charlie interrupted, staring down at the candy in his hands. "You don't have to share. I was just curious."

"You didn't have to share your sandwiches," Neville shot back with a confidence Charlie had yet to see.

"Yeah, but…"

"Just leave it, Charlie," Harry said, before turning back to Neville a hand pointing out the other sweet he'd gotten. "What about that other one?"

"Oh, yeah, these are Chocolate Frogs," Neville replied, giving each boy two. "I don't normally eat these, but they remind me so much of Trevor that I thought why not?"

Charlie moved to open the Frogs, his fingers pulling at the plastic as he spoke, "What's wrong with these?" he asked finally getting the package open. Just as Neville was about to reply, the candy came to life, jumping across the compartment and out of Charlie's grasp as it made its escape.

"Well, that," Neville stated as he opened his Chocolate Frogs more carefully, grabbing hold of the frog before it could escape. "And I'm not the big on collecting the cards, but I thought you might want to."

Charlie nodded at that, inspecting the card still in his hands as the wizard winked at him. He wasn't sure who Hengist of Woodcroft was, but he was sure he could figure it out later.

"Is it a real frog?" Harry asked, eyeing his candy suspiciously as he held on tight. The question brought Charlie's focus back to the second chocolate in his hand as he moved to open it. This time with more care.

"Oh no, it's just a bit rambunctious is all," Neville assured around a mouthful of chocolate, his second set aside in exchange for the Cauldron Cakes.

"So who's Trevor?" Charlie asked, his second frog successfully making it into his mouth as he turned to the Cauldron Cakes as well.

"He's my toad," Neville replied hesitantly, fingers wrapped around the chocolate mini-cake as he shifted his eyes away from them. "My Great Uncle Algie got it for me when he found out I had enough magic to come to Hogwarts."

"Oh, that's really cool," Charlie replied excited before taking a bite of the sweet, it oozed fudge in the center and was perhaps one of the greatest things he'd ever tasted.

Thoroughly distracted by the sweet, Charlie nearly missed his brother's comment. "We have a toad too. She's a natterjack, but she doesn't have a name yet."

Neville seemed to perk back up at that comment, "Really, why not?" he asked after finishing his own cake.

"Well, she's a very intelligent toad so we thought we'd help her pick one out herself," Harry continued before taking a bite out of his own Cauldron Cake.

"Oh, okay," Neville replied skeptically, clearly he didn't see how a toad could pick its own name. "So, do you want to meet, Trevor?" he asked, putting his extra sweets aside as he moved to rise.

"Of course," the twins said simultaneously.

Getting up from his seat, Neville moved to his things searching until he had his hands on an empty cage. "Oh no, he's gone missing again."

"Hey, don't worry. We'll help you find him," Charlie reassured, stuffing the rest of his chocolates into their bag in the process.

"With the three of us searching, we're sure to find him quickly," Harry added, passing his extras to Charlie so they could be put away as well.

"Thanks guys."

"No problem," Charlie replied as he moved to the door, sliding it open to let the other two boys out first.

"We should probably split up to cover more ground," Harry suggested already on the move. With one quick hand, Charlie stopped him. While normally, he wouldn't have minded letting his brother go off on his own, they were in a completely knew place surrounded by people they didn't know. Plus, one look at Neville told him that the other boy would probably be better off if he was traveling with at least one of them.

"How about we stick together this time?" Charlie stated, pushing on before his brother could protest. "You and Neville can check one side of the train car while I'll check the other. What do you think, Neville?" he continued, quickly directing his question to the other boy so that Harry would have a hard time refusing.

"That sounds like a good idea," Neville replied, his nervous nature quickly coming back to him the longer they stood outside of their compartment.

"Fine," Harry mumbled, guiding Neville to the door across from them after shooting a glare at Charlie.

Grinning at having won this argument before it had even become one, Charlie moved down the car, knocking on the door before pocking his head in to ask if the occupants had seen a toad.

Two cars searched and still no sign of Trevor, Charlie was starting to get worried. With every failure Neville seemed to retreat more and more into himself. Charlie needed to find a way to find the toad as fast as possible. 'Maybe I should put on the charm?' he thought as he approached another compartment. He wasn't entirely sure why, but when he smiled in just the right way, people tended to be far more compliant than normal.

With that thought in mind, Charlie knocked on the compartment door before sliding it open. With one quick look, Charlie realized that this compartment was filled with girls, all young enough to probably be first years like him. Pulling on the smile that had successfully charmed his third year teacher into giving his brother an extension on an assignment that Dudley had completely destroyed the night before it was due, Charlie moved to speak.

"Have you lovely ladies by chance seen a little lost toad hopping about your compartment?" he asked, his voice smooth and warm as he used far more words than he actually needed. He'd learned long ago that the right adjectives were just as important as the smile when it came to convincing people. Girls liked small, sweet words that gave them warm and happy images while boys tended to be drawn in by gross, violent words that gave them the impression of excitement.

As expected a burst of giggling filled the compartment causing Charlie to smirk inwardly at his success. They would be gushing about all they'd seen in a matter of seconds.

"No, we haven't seen any toads. What kind of toad is he? What does he look like? Where was he seen last? How long has he been gone? Honestly, you should really take better care of your animals." Stunned at the rush of words, Charlie did a double take, his eyes searching for the rather bossy voice that had companied those words. There in the middle of the group of girls sat prim and proper was the same girl he'd seen earlier on the platform. Now in her Hogwarts uniform, her brown bushy hair fell haphazardly across her shoulders as she looked at him completely unimpressed.

"Well aren't you going to say something?" she asked with a roll of her eyes. Charlie thought he heard a comment about boys but he couldn't be sure. Ready to answer at least one of her questions, Charlie didn't get the chance to say anything before she pushed on, "Clearly you need my help," she continued with a huff, rising to her feet in the blink of an eye.

"Well, actually…" he began, finally managing to at least get a few words out before being interrupted again.

"Come on, we've got no time to lose," she continued, pulling him out of the compartment in a rush.

Back out into the corridor the compartment door firmly shut, Charlie turned back to the girl standing next to him. He was more than ready to tell her that he didn't need her help. That they already had two other people looking for the toad and that was sure to be enough, but when he finally looked at her he couldn't. Right before his eyes she seemed to deflate a little, her eyes warily glancing back at the compartment she'd just exited before quickly shifting away. Clearly, she hadn't been having that great of a time with the other girls. And how could he make her go back in there if that was the case?

So instead he let her go on and on about search patterns and proper searching methods while he waited for his brother and Neville to re-enter the hallway. Charlie was a little surprised at just how much she could talk in such a short span of time, but he didn't mind. She just seemed so _enthusiastic_ about all of it.

Moments later Harry and Neville exited their compartment, a worried look still plastered on to Neville's face. Harry eyed him warily as he took note of the girl standing next to him causing Charlie to shrug. It wasn't like he could say much about it.

As the girl took a pause for breath, Charlie interrupted, not wasting a second as he was sure she'd just talk over him if he wasn't fast enough. "Neville, Harry this is, ah, actually I don't know who this is," he admitted, turning back to his tag-along for the answer.

The bushy haired girl eyed him, then his brother before a glint came to her brown eyes. "I'm Hermione Granger and I know all about you."

Charlie frowned, "You do?" he asked, a brow raised in question.

"Of course I do. You're the _Potter Twins_. I've read all about you. Especially _you_ Charlie Potter," she continued, pointing to him as she finished.

"How do you know about my brother?" Harry asked, stepping forward in the process. Charlie rolled his eyes at the protective maneuver. He was clearly fine. Though strange, he didn't think Hermione could or would actually hurt him.

"You're the Potter _Twins_," she replied with an exasperated sigh. "You were in three of my background reading books."

"We were?" Harry questioned, confusion clearly written across his face.

"Of course you were," she said as if the information was common knowledge. "Anyway, we're wasting time, as I was telling Charlie here, the best way to search would be to split up, but since we've got the four of us, then I think we can do this in pairs."

Charlie sighed at the look Harry gave him, his superior 'I was right and you should have listened to me' look. Running a palm across his face, Charlie just waited for Hermione to finish up so they could continue the search. "So, you and Neville will finish this train car then continue in that direction," she stated, pointing toward the way they'd been headed in the first place. "While Charlie and I search in the opposite direction. Once we're done we'll come find you since it shouldn't take us that long to conduct our search. Now let's go," she finished rushing off in the direction she'd stated earlier.

She managed to get all the way to the door before she realized that Charlie hadn't moved to follow. "Well, hurry up!" she commanded, arms crossed, foot tapping as she waited impatiently for him.

"I should," Charlie began, pointing in the direction of Hermione while trying to ignore his brother's mirth. Thankfully, Neville was far more concerned about his toad to find this situation funny.

"Took you long enough," she stated as he finally reached her.

"Has anyone every told you that you're a little bossy?" he asked with a sigh, pulling the door open for her. Her step faltered at his words causing Charlie to worriedly look over at her. 'Had he said something wrong?' he thought frowning.

"Why I've never," she huffed in frustration, pushing forward and nearly knocking him over in the process.

"Hey, I never said it was a bad thing!" he yelled before jogging to catch up. Yeah, the wizarding world was definitely something else.

* * *

AN: Sorry, it's a day late. Had it ready, but forgot about it. So, now you get it today. Enjoy until we meet again.

_PS_ I'm looking forward to Christmas. I think you should be too.

KJ


	9. Interlude I

**_Once upon a time (an interlude in parts)_**

Once upon a time there was  
A girl  
Willing to chance another world  
New and different  
She relied on faith  
And the courage to see it through

Once upon a time there was  
A boy  
Nervous to a fault  
Constantly afraid that he didn't belong  
But willing to push on  
And see if he could be more

Once upon a time  
They wished for more  
Taking the first steps of many  
Wanting to prove to the world  
That they were, _are  
_More than they appear

Once upon a time there were  
Identical mirrors  
Twice the strength  
Twice the trouble  
Twice the courage  
All to hold on faith

Set apart to bring forth  
A new beginning  
A journey unseen and uncharted  
The glue to hold the fringes  
To mark time without ticking

Once upon a time  
When there was nothing left  
Running on frayed edges of hope  
Too close to the ledge to jump freely  
Yet brave enough yet to try

Once upon a time  
There was the beginnings of a family  
New and willing and something more  
Once upon a time


	10. Chapter Eight

**_Chapter Eight: Not your average Gryffindor _**

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A voice boomed in the night. The low, scratchy timber almost vibrating through her very bones as Hermione moved to exit the train.

Neville and the Potter Twins, she'd since lost track of which was which, close behind her, Hermione followed the booming voice to a giant of a man.

"C'mon, follow me, follow me!" The large man continued as he herded the first years around him. The small stature of her year mates only highlighting the huge difference in height between the bear of a man and the growing crowd around him.

From her spot not too far away from him, Hermione was more than positive that this man was definitely the largest man she'd ever seen, much larger even than anyone she'd ever met. On a closer inspection, she found that he didn't _look_ like he had the gigantism disease. As it was, all of his features seemed well proportioned for his body.

A quick thought crossed her mind that he might be a _giant_. The pure fantastical nature of the idea causing her to scoff before she remembered where she was. This was the _wizarding world_. Here in her new reality she couldn't just dismiss the idea as she might normally. Not when now, _anything_ could be possible. She'd have to remember to look it up later. Professor McGonagall had mentioned Hogwarts had the best magical library available. Surely she'd be able to confirm the theory there.

"Any more firs' years?" He glanced around before heading down a steep narrow path. "Mind yer step, now!"

Hermione felt a chill run down her as she placed each foot in front of the other as carefully as she could. It was cold, the path was slick, and she just wanted to be inside already to get this sorting business done and over with.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," their giant guide called over his large shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

Hermione quickened her steps, slipping a little in the process. Before she could fall and likely end up with a bruised side knowing her luck, one of the Potter twins grabbed her elbow to steady her. "Easy now. We'll get there eventually."

She pulled her arm out of his grip with a huff. "I can manage just fine on my own, thank you," she sniped, unhappy with needing his help in the first place.

"Come on Charlie," Harry replied ahead of them, allowing Hermione to momentarily identify them separately. Charlie shrugged at her before heading over to his brother and she would have kept them firmly in her sights so that she wouldn't lose track of which was which again if it wasn't for the gasps of surprise filling the air ahead of them. The sound pulled her attention away from the Potter Twins as the path finally opened ahead of her. There they stood on the edge of a black lake, the dark waters holding her attention for but a moment as she caught the reflection of a magnificent castle in its surface. Quickly looking up, she caught her first sight of her new school. There, perched atop a mountain, was the vast castle that could be nothing other than Hogwarts.

"Wow." She heard Neville speak beside her. And she had to agree. She'd seen many castles before, but this one was something else entirely. Magical even.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Their guide called out as he pointed to a small fleet of boats at the water's edge. "Oy, whose toad is this?" he continued, holding his massive fist up high in the air.

"Trevor!"

Ignoring Neville's exclamation as he raced to retrieve his toad, Hermione moved to pick the closest boat. Surprisingly enough she was quickly followed by the Potter twins, one of which was denying access to their fourth spot to one of their year mates as his brother boarded the boat. Soon enough his intentions were made clear as Neville rejoined them, toad in hand.

Rolling her eyes, she should have known that was what he was doing, Hermione sat quietly as both Neville and the other Potter Twin joined them in the small boat. She didn't bother trying to figure out which was which this time already aware that she'd lost track of them the moment she'd taken her eyes off them to gaze upon the castle. Instead she simply watched as the twins seemed to fawn over Neville's toad while the rest of the first years loaded into the boats surrounding them.

She caught a comment about Trevor from one of the twins, but again she couldn't decipher which one was which. Unfortunately, they sounded remarkably alike and in the growing dark she couldn't look for any specific features, not that she knew of any to begin with. One of her books _had_ mentioned different scars on the foreheads, but she'd not been able to tell which twin had which scar while still on the train. At least not with their hair as long as it was. The messy black tresses seemed to cover their foreheads completely. She'd have to figure a different, more reliable way to tell them apart without it, and soon. After all, she hated being at a disadvantage. Not to mention she didn't want to go about calling them the Potter Twins forever. That was just rude _and_ tacky.

Soon enough her attention was on the magical second gaze of Hogwarts. This was to be her new school. As long as she could make it she thought before turning back to look at her riding companions.

"We're really here."

"Yeah. The real deal."

"I just can't wait."

"Yeah, I know. Things will be different."

"Yeah. Different. Better?"

"Yeah."

She turned to Neville to see if he was just as confused as she was at that particular display. Given the look he shot her, a reciprocal of her own she was sure, he was.

At least they'd used words this time. When they'd met back up on the train, still searching for Neville's toad, they'd had some kind of conversation in the short space of time it had taken her to assess their progress. Of course, Hermione wasn't entirely sure that it counted as a conversation as it had lacked any form of spoken words. In fact, she'd only known it had occurred based on the few statements Charlie had managed to get through while she was taking a breath.

Granted this stilted conversation of half sentences couldn't really be considered much better. It wasn't like it actually helped all that much when it came to deciphering the meaning of their conversation. Still, it was something. While it didn't actually confirm nor deny her theory on what they needed to communicate with each other, it at least left the possibilities open. It was always possible identical magical twins weren't like normal twins. She hadn't been sure earlier if they even needed to talk to communicate, but she wasn't sure she'd rule it out just yet either. Now she really wished she'd gotten that extra reading on magical twins.

Hermione led the way off of the boat to follow the friendly giant. Despite his size, he couldn't be all bad, after all, he _had_ helped Neville find his toad.

Of course his friendly presence didn't stop the nerves from coming. No, the closer she got to the castle the more nervous she became. What if she didn't get sorted? What if she wasn't magical enough? Or what if this was all just some big mistake? Perhaps she wasn't as special as her parents and Professor McGonagall had made her believe.

Worry consumed her thoughts, creating a great distance between the world around her and their spinning thoughts. Enough so that she was just barely aware of Professor McGonagall's presence as she took over as their escort. The next conscious thought found Hermione in a large room, waiting. To be judged she was sure.

She tuned out the conversation around her the very moment that the Professor left them alone. There wasn't time for her to be distracted by the random chatter of her year mates, not when she had so much to review. Every spell, every theory, every flick of her wand, needed to be remembered with perfect clarity. Everything she knew about magic, she knew, would be tested. And more, she was sure.

She'd only managed to learn so much in the time between first receiving her letter and now. Which wasn't nearly enough. Not for the likes of Hogwarts. Oh god, why wouldn't Professor McGonagall just tell her the means of sorting into the different houses? Why the cryptic statement surrounding the event when she'd been so forthcoming with everything else?

Once more she reviewed her spells. Going over each charm one at a time. Every potions ingredient and its properties she'd managed to learn. She should have read all of her textbooks, and not just the first half of each one. What had she been thinking willing giving herself such a disadvantage?

Hermione's right hand absentmindedly went through the wand motions as she practiced the spells she'd learned whispering them under her breath. Professor McGonagall had assured her that everyone was sorted. She would have a place. Had too. The likelihood that she was the first student to not be sorted was just _so_ slim. There were hundreds of muggleborns that had made it into all the houses over the years. Of course she didn't want to be in just _any_ house.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she continued her mental review. Whispering some of the information out loud as she practiced. She was only broken out of her concentration by a loud commotion of screams. Looking up she saw… 'Ghost!' She jumped back in surprise. 'A real ghost!'

"You don't see that every day." One of the Potter twins muttered beside her. She hadn't noticed that the twins along with Neville were still near her. That was new. Certainly a surprise although she wasn't a hundred percent sure if it was pleasant just yet. She'd been certain they'd do their own thing after the boat ride. That's always how it had been before. She was too brainy for anything else.

Within moments of the thought, Professor McGonagall returned. Pulled from her self-reflecting thoughts, Hermione listened attentively as the Professor gave a brief house review, which was nowhere near as in-depth as her response to her letter. She was more than pleased to know that she already knew which house she wanted to be in. Otherwise, that limited information might have shaped her opinion.

Following instructions, the first years filed into line, Neville and the Potter Twins right behind her. Walking through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help the gasp that escaped her.

_Magic was everywhere_.

Thousands and thousands of candles floated in midair over each of the house tables, which were covered in splendid golden plates and goblets. She could see the ghosts mingling with the students at different house tables. But she'd known all of that from a bit of light reading, _Hogwarts, A History_. In fact…

Hermione turned her attention to the ceiling. "It really is bewitched to look like the sky outside," she whispered to herself. Overhead it looked like there was no ceiling at all, nothing but the night sky above them. The sky was so clear that even the thousands of candle lights didn't obscure her view of the stars. 'Oh, there's Orion's belt!' This was so amazing. Magic! She just couldn't wait to learn.

Her eyes came back down at the sudden quiet of the room reminding her of the task at hand. First, she would had to be sorted. Glancing around the room once more, Hermione found Professor McGonagall standing next to a stool with an old looking hat on it. It couldn't be just any hat, though. As if on cue, the hat came to life and began to sing.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat then me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry,  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin,  
Where you'll meet your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means,  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For a Thinking Cap.*_

A hat, a _sorting_ hat. Hermione's hands came into a clapping motion out of habit as the hall filled with applause. Within the time it took for the clapping to settle down, Hermione reviewed every word of the poem once more. If she was correct, all she had to do was put the hat on and it would place her in the right house. She swallowed heavily as Professor McGonagall started calling out first year names. This might make it even harder to get in the house she wanted.

As name after name was called getting closer to her own, she tried not to focus on her own impeding sorting, but instead she placed faces and names to the houses each of her classmates were sorted into. Lavender Brown was the first Gryffindor. That was unfortunate, but initial impressions weren't always the correct ones.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before moving quickly with her head held high towards Professor McGonagall and the sorting hat. The Professor smiled kindly at her before Hermione jammed the hat onto her head. The quicker she got this done the better.

'Oh my, what an inquisitive mind. I don't think there's any debate where you belong.' Hermione shut her eyes tightly in her disappointment. 'Oh, what's this? You don't want to be a Ravenclaw?'

'Oh, no sir. I'd like you to put me in Gryffindor. Please and thank you,' Hermione replied directly in her head.

'Hahahaa. Why you are brave, now aren't you? More so, I think than any other muggleborn I've met.' Hermione could hear the hum as the thinking cap continued to debate her request. If she had a say in this, then she'd best provide her best argument.

'I know I'm very clever, but I also think I'm very brave too. For believing in magic, I mean.'

'You're braver than that even. Yes, now that I'm looking I see your everyday bravery. But are you sure you wouldn't rather go to Ravenclaw. It might be an easier place for you, and you'll learn so much in that house.'

Hermione started to reply, but the hat answered before her, 'Yes, I see. Your knowledge wouldn't be hampered no matter what house. And if you're sure…' Hermione gave a resounding yes in her head, 'Then it better be,' "GRYFFINDOR!"

Pulling the sorting hat off her head, Hermione gave it back to Professor McGonagall as she silently walked to the clapping and cheering coming from her new house. They'd done the same for all of their first years, but this time it seemed special. This cheering was for _her_. She tried not to skip, but wasn't sure she'd managed not to. Making a bee line for her new house, she found the middle section of the table open for what seemed like all of the first years. Lavender was already there sitting next to Seamus Finnigan. As she got closer, Lavender looked right through her to the sorting behind her, not once acknowledging her presence.

'Perhaps first impressions really are the right ones,' Hermione thought as she passed the girl. Instead, she sat down near the front of the section closest to the older students, but also furthest from Lavender. Although Hermione had had frostier receptions from girls her year, she didn't care to test how much worse it could get. As it seemed, Hogwarts wasn't likely to be any different than primary after all. Even so, that hardly mattered. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to learn, and learn she would.

Turning her focus back to the sorting, she continued her practice of connecting names and faces with the houses into which each of the first years were sorted.

"Longbottom, Neville." Hermione expect him to go to Hufflepuff pretty quickly. So she was a little surprised when his sorting took longer than all the one's previously. She briefly wondered how long hers had taken. Was it this long?

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The whole of the Gryffindor table cheered and clapped at the latest addition. That was interesting. She'd not pegged Neville for a Gryffindor. Perhaps he'd had to convince the sorting hat to place him here like she had. Of course it probably wasn't polite to ask so she doubted she'd ever truly know.

Neville found his way close to her position across the table from her. Not really in the same section, but not as far away as he could have been. She nodded to him in passing as she turned back to the sorting. Her eyes landing on the Potter Twins briefly.

Neville, and by extension his toad, reminded her of the train ride. Really, Neville's apparent inability to keep track of his toad had been her saving grace, the highlight of the entire ride down from London. Stuck in a compartment with girls more interested in boys, the Potter Twins really, and trips to Hogsmeade, then classes and the subjects they were going to learn, she'd been thankful for the reprieve that the search for his toad had created.

Those girls, at least one of them now her housemate, had done nothing to help her acclimate to the conversation, keeping her isolated with their talk of popular information she couldn't follow. The latest witch accessory, self-applying lipstick and the trill of learning spells to apply make-up. She'd had no interest whatsoever in those types of topics even if she hadn't been muggleborn and consequentially better able to relate. As a result, she'd excused herself for the washroom several times, just to get away. Of course she'd only been able to use that particular excuse sparingly. Outside of that she'd had no reason to leave the compartment, but more importantly, she had nowhere else to go.

Then Charlie had come in, like the knights in those fairytales she'd never believed in, but was now questioning even that aspect of her life. After all, magic was real. And what was more fanciful then witchly godmothers granting wishes to destitute goddaughters?

In that moment, when Charlie had opened that compartment door in search for a toad, she'd seen it for the opportunity it truly was. And it _had_ been easier with the twins and Neville. Easier to traipse around the train, a purpose guiding them as they searched for a missing toad. Easier still knowing that they'd all managed to don their school robes without anyone telling them too. In that aspect at least, they were of a like mind. She'd known then that she needn't worry about name calling and teasing, at least not because of her prepared nature.

Name after name rang out across the Great Hall as each first year was sorted, moving happily to their new house. Hermione shifted back in mild surprise when Parvati Patil didn't follow her identical twin sister to Ravenclaw. Certainly that was unprecedented. Odd in the way that perhaps Hogwarts' didn't often see. Given the supporting evidence around her, she'd just assumed identical twins were sorted into the same house. Her gaze shifted from the Potter Twins to the redheaded twins in her own house as Parvati joined Lavender at the other end of the table as if to reaffirm the reason for her assumptions.

As if to challenge her theory, Charlie's name was called.

"Potter, Charlie."

Silence descended upon the Great Hall, each student filled with seemingly endless anticipation to see where Charlie would fall. She thought that each house likely wanted him. He was famous enough, gallant enough at least that's what she'd read. And surely she'd read more on the Potter Twins then was probably appropriate. She had a wealth of knowledge that she thought might be equal to that of the wizarding born students. She was more than aware what the wizarding world thought of the twins.

Of course that didn't really rectify what she'd actually _seen_. In reality, they seemed _so_ different from anything she'd read. Or at least _Charlie_ did. She hadn't spent nearly as much time with Harry for her to know if the books had done _him_ any justice, but given what she did know about Charlie, she very much doubted it.

Charlie was, well, a _very_ layered individual. More than just a first glance that she was sure most would give him, but not her. No, she'd taken that first impression, thought him a jokester who couldn't take anything serious, but she hadn't let that stop her from looking deeper. Of course, _that_ Charlie, she could easily imagine riding white horses and fighting off dark creatures just as the rest of the wizarding world imagined. He had this way about him that just put people at ease. _That_ Charlie, she had no doubt, would have ended up as a Gryffindor.

But when she'd looked deeper, seen a flash of something more, she'd found that Charlie was _not_ all fun and games. There'd been a moment, no matter how brief, when she'd seen something darker in him. Back on the train, when some older students had poked fun of their search for Neville's toad. She'd been more than ready to ignore it. If they could give them any information at all then it didn't really matter what they said in the meantime.

She'd met plenty of people like that. People who made fun of others like Neville for what seemed like no reason, no _good_ reason, at all. In her experience, as long as she could get the information she needed, then it didn't matter how rude the person was in giving it. That was just a part of life. It was how the world worked.

But Charlie didn't seem to follow the same logic. She still remembered how he'd cut her off for the first time. She'd been sure to tell him off, but then she'd caught the look in his eyes. Dark, cold, calculating. _That_ Charlie might not be a Gryffindor at all. No, if anything she'd say with all the information she had of each house, _that_ Charlie might be more Slytherin than anything else. Those eyes, emerald green twinkling behind wire-rimmed frames, had spoken of a dark cunning. A cunning that might use any means to achieve his goals. And _that _was as Slytherin as it came, at least, that was her understanding of the house.

Of course, that dark look had passed, flirting across his face so quickly that even now she was trying to determine if she hadn't just imagined the whole thing entirely.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The announcement pulled her from her thoughts as her table, her _housemates_, began to chant.

"We got Potter. We got Potter."

The room was filled with their wild chanting as Charlie made his way confidently to the Gryffindor table. A flash of something more, calculating, cunning, crossed his gaze as he glanced her way. It lingered in the air even as he looked away, turning his attention to his brother as he stepped past him. Then, in the next moment, the look vanished when he'd turned back to her. And there was nothing but that goofy jokester staring back at her.

Shaking her head, she focused back on the proceedings in front of her. She was probably over thinking things.

"Potter, Harry."

"Hey, Hermione, Neville," Charlie greeted as he sat down right across from her. She gave a brief nod in response noticing how Neville seemed to move closer to them in the process.

Harry was taking too long, much longer than even Charlie, and she'd been sure he was the longest thus far. A small frown formed on her face as she watched worriedly. She peeked over to Charlie to see the matching frown lining his features as well. This did not bode well. What would happen if he ended up somewhere else? At once, she remembered the dark look in Charlie's eyes from the train and shivered.

"GRYFFINDOR!" A collective sigh released from everyone in her immediate vicinity. And another roar filled the Great Hall as the Gryffindor table reacted.

"We've got Potters. We've got them both!"

Hermione relaxed as Harry sat down on the other side of Charlie. Smiles exchanged all around. Pleased with the outcome, she turned her attention back to the sorting. It was nearly done now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft calls of her name, "Hey, Hermione."

She ignored it. Of course that didn't seem to stop the calling. Over and over again, a quiet voice called to her. Frustration clearly slipping through as the voice slowly grew in volume. Finally, when the calling became a little too loud _and_ persistent, she turned to the source of her current irritation. Charlie waved at her with a smile on his face clearly happy he'd finally pulled her attention away from the sorting. She frowned just as deep in displeasure.

"What!?" she whispered fiercely. Could he not take a hint?

"Just wanted to know how you were liking Hogwarts so far is all." Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight of him. Really? That wounded puppy dog look was _not_ going to change her mind. Did he have no common decency? They were in the middle of the _sorting_.

"And your curiosity couldn't wait until after the sorting," she whispered sharply.

"Well, what's wrong with now?" Charlie had the nerve to look around as if he really didn't see that they were in the middle of the _sorting_.

"_Now_?" she whispered harshly as she gestured toward the front of the Great Hall, where the _sorting_ was currently taking place. As she turned her attention back to the front, she caught the look of pure concentration on Harry's face as he watched the sorting. Now why couldn't Charlie be more like that? "_Now_, we're in the middle of the _sorting_," she finished, nearly snapping at the boy across from her as she turned back to him.

To emphasize her point, the Gryffindor table started clapping as a dark skinned boy made his way toward them. Horror crossed her face as she realized she hadn't gotten his name. This was her new housemate and she didn't even know his name! Turning back to Charlie's grinning face, she nearly dropped her whisper, "Now look what you've done!"

"Huh? What did I do?" Charlie asked causally, his entire focus on her instead of the sorting, where both of their attentions should have been.

"You made me miss his _name_," she hissed with displeasure. "He's our housemate and I don't know his _name_."

Charlie shrugged in response, "Oh well, we'll find out eventually, I'm sure." Shaking her head sharply she gave a huff of air as she started to turn her attention back to the front. Charlie was just _impossible_. "So, how _do_ you like Hogwarts?"

"You _cannot_ be serious. You are being _rude_, Charlie."

"So it's rude to talk to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his response. Now, he was just begin difficult on purpose, "No. It's rude to talk during the _sorting_."

Charlie looked to the right and then the left. "So, what about them?" Hermione's eyes followed his out stretched hand to see the several groups of older students having hushed conversations at the same volume as them. She turned red in frustration. Charlie was just being factious now.

"That doesn't make it right!"

Another round of clapping from their table caused Hermione to whirl around to find the tall lengthy redhead walking toward them. He stopped along the way to get congratulations from several other redheads already at their table.

"Looks like we've another Weasley," an older student spoke nearby.

"Zabini, Blaise," Professor McGonagall announced. Looking around, Hermione realized that there were no more first years to be sorted outside of Blaise. He was the very last one. Charlie had made her miss the latter part of the sorting altogether. 'That prat!' Oh, she was going to get him back for this later.

She glowered at the table as Blaise was sorted into Slytherin. Only shifting when the tall redhead first year sat down beside her. "Hi, I'm Ron Weasley. But I guess you heard from the sorting and all. You must be Charlie Potter," he said as he leant over the table to shake Harry's hand.

With a sharp huff at the bold incorrect introduction, she corrected him, "No. That's _Harry._" Pointing over to the prat of the Potter Twins she continued with clear distain in her voice, "_He's_ Charlie." He might have been an alright bloke to begin with, but he could also be a right _prat_, not to be mistaken for who was becoming her favorite of the twins, _Harry_.

"No one was asking _you_," he replied defensively. She huffed again before turning away from the conversation happening right beside her. Hogwarts was going to be just like primary school. Ron turned to Charlie and tried again. "Hi, I'm Ron. _You_ must be Charlie."

"_That's_ Harry," Charlie replied sharply as he pointed to his brother. Hermione was a little confused, but it seemed so was Ron.

"Yeah, I… I know that…" Ron trailed off his confidence waning.

"Sure you do. And those are your brothers, right?" Hermione followed Charlie's thumb to see the twin redheads, the same ones she'd seen congratulating Ron earlier.

"Ah, yeah…" Ron replied slowly. "And so is Percy." Ron pointed to the other redhead that had congratulated him. Four children in Hogwarts? That was a lot of children.

"So, you wouldn't introduce yourself to just one of them would you?" Charlie continued a little more kindly than before, but not by much.

Ron smacked himself in the face at his mistake, "I've messed this up royally haven't I?"

"Yeah, definitely," Charlie replied.

"But only a little," Harry added kindly to take the sting off Charlie's words.

"Here let me help," Charlie turned to Neville, "This fine chap to my left is Neville."

"Hi," Neville replied shyly. Ron nodded in greeting.

"And the rather clever lass you were short with earlier is Hermione." She glared at Charlie for his cheek. It was a completely unnecessary introduction.

"Ah, hi."

"Ronald," Hermione replied crisply, her head held high. She was waiting to be corrected about his first name, but he only colored and sank back into his seat.

At the Headmaster's motion for silence, Hermione turned her attention to him. He was sure to give a great welcoming speech. She'd read so much about Headmaster Dumbledore, "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.*"

She blinked several time in surprise as food appeared in front of them. 'That was it?'

"Food finally. I'm starving," Ron said from beside her as he dug into the many trays of food.

Hermione, having been taught manners by her parents, filled her plate slowly without leaning over people and their plates to get platters of food. She, unlike _some_, didn't drop their potatoes on to others plates and then not bother to apologize.

Looking across the table to ignore the rude behavior on her side, she was surprised to see Charlie setting a plate, not for himself, but for Harry. His care and kindness for his brother, of course, didn't make up for his earlier rudeness. Who knew how long it would take for her to learn the others name without it seeming like she didn't already know it.

Turning inward, she ate in silence. Peeking up at her fellow year mates every once in a while. Although she was sore about Charlie, at least neither he nor Harry were eating like savages. She picked a piece of wayward food from her robes, before scooting a little further down and away from Ron. The last thing she needed was flying bits of food in her hair. Neville gave her a shy smile in response. It seemed that everyone else could eat normally without fear that their food wasn't about to be stolen from their plate.

Hermione blinked in disbelief as she watched the twins eat out of the corner of her eye. Clearly her better than 20/20 vision needed to be checked because she couldn't have just seen what she thought she'd seen. Charlie certainly hadn't dropped something into his lap. It was unnecessary and likely against the rules. Even if he _was_ a prat, he wouldn't risk going against the rules for something so silly, would he?

Deciding that the issued required further investigation, she continued to observe them, mostly Charlie, as they ate. Sure enough, she watched him drop something else into his lap two more times. On the second drop, she was pretty sure it was a dinner roll. By the third drop, she'd had confirmation. It was indeed a dinner roll. Now why in the world was he stealing food? There was plenty on the table, and sure to be more in the morning for breakfast.

She decided then that she'd need to keep a close eye on him. How else was she to know exactly what to confront him with in the very near future? As it was, she was pretty sure it would be against the rules. And now that they were all in the same house, she didn't want any rule breaking. Not on her watch. Not if she could help it.

Brought from her investigations by the very sudden end to flying bits of food, Hermione shifted her attention to the boy sitting next to her. Ron, more than comfortable in his seat, sat back patting his stomach as he sighed in contentment. For a moment she'd let her hope that he was done fill her with joy. No more worrying about bits in her hair. No more flicking food pieces from her _new_ robes. Of course, she shouldn't have been all that surprised when instead of sitting back to enjoy the company of his housemates, he began to refill his plate.

She sighed at the sight. Mentally preparing herself for the onslaught of food bits ready to head her way. She was certainly going to have to remember to _never _sit next to him during _any _meal in the future. She wasn't sure her luck would run that well to avoid getting bits in her hair if she did.

Thankfully, as he dug back into his plate, he managed to control his appetite. While still a bit wild, haphazardly shoveling food into his mouth, this time he managed to eat at a far more normal rate. So he did know how to eat civilly. Did wonders never cease?

Hermione turned away only to be startled by a ghost passing through the table. "Hey, I know all about you! My brothers told me all about the Gryffindor ghost. You're Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron stated in wonder.

"Nearly headless?" She found herself questioning against her will. "How is someone _nearly_ headless?"

At her question, Nearly Headless Nick plucked his head from his shoulders, letting it fall as he let go. She expected it to drop to the table, but it never made it far enough. Instead, it just hung there, as if attached by a single piece of thread.

"I guess that answers _that_ question," Charlie replied with a chuckle, clear amusement coloring his tone.

She ignored Charlie's reply, but that didn't stop the rest of their table from launching into discussion. Try as she might, she couldn't stop her gaze from drifting to the Potter Twins. Shifting to Harry anytime he made a fairly educated statement, thoroughly impressed with his breadth of knowledge. And unwillingly shifting to Charlie as he attempted to direct the conversation. Moving the conversation to engage Neville, who she was beginning to realize was perhaps a little too shy to enter the conversation on his own. And of course her. Charlie, the seemingly _thoughtful _twin, even tried to pull her in as well. Of course she was on to him. _She _wasn't about to fall for his act. She was determined to continue ignoring him.

"Come on, Hermione. You can't ignore me forever."

Realizing he wasn't going to give up, she relented into talking to him. If only to get him to leave her alone, "I can try."

"Oh, come on. What did _I_ do?"

"I missed part of the _sorting_ because of you. Or have you forgotten?" Charlie tried to defend himself, tried to say something, anything that might change her mind, but she wasn't having any of that. "Now, it will take me much longer to learn everyone's name and house! And that's _your_ fault!"

She waited for whatever excuse Charlie would come up with, already having a counter for each one. But it was Harry who spoke. In fact, it was the first time that he'd talked directly to her, "Oliver Rivers went into Hufflepuff, Dean Thomas is our housemate, Lisa Turpin landed into Ravenclaw, Ron is right next to you, and Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin." Harry pointed to each person in turn. "I'm guessing you got everyone before our sorting."

"Ah, yeah," she replied hesitantly. She'd known Harry was paying attention, she'd just not been sure how detailed his account would be.

"See you had nothing to worry about with us around you'll know everyone," Charlie responded, completely ruining the moment.

"You mean _Harry_, right," Hermione countered not willing to give Charlie any credit. He certainly didn't deserve any.

"Harry, us… really no difference," Charlie replied off handedly causing Harry to smile. She rolled her eyes. She'd have to admit that Charlie was growing on her. Like a malignant tumor.

Turning to Harry she spoke, "Harry, seeing as you seem to be the smarter of the two of you."

"Hey I resent that!" Charlie interrupted.

She paid him no mind and continued as if he'd never said a word, "Would you like to join my study group?"

"Group really?" Ron replied before Harry could speak, "Is there more than just you?"

"There will be," she snapped back, turned back to Harry to wait for his answer.

"No one wants to form a study group. Lessons haven't even started yet!" Ron continued, not bothered that she was trying to ignore him. What was it with the boys in her house? Couldn't any of them take a hint?

"Ah, actually," Harry interrupted. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

Hermione smiled in surprised triumph. 'Two points for me. Zero for Ron.'

Next to Harry she saw Charlie shaking his head in his hands as he mumbled, "Lessons haven't even _started_ yet."

"But we can never be too prepared," Hermione replied gleefully at Charlie's pain. "You'll join too Neville, right?"

"Sure I guess. I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'll do my best."

She smiled already thinking of the best way to color code their study schedule. "Great! That makes four of us."

"Four?" Ron questioned, "Your groups not going to be any good if you can't count, Hermione. You've only three people total."

"Don't be silly. I'm counting Charlie too. What was it you said earlier, Charlie?" She paused, moving a hand to rub under her chin in faux thought. Charlie groaned at her display, leaning further into his hands as he sighed in defeat. "Something along the lines of Harry and you being one and the same. So, I can put you both down as members of our study group. I'm sure." Her own smile was getting wider and wider every second. Torturing Charlie was far more fun than she'd anticipated.

"But he…" Ron glanced over at the defeated Charlie, finally coming to the same conclusion that she'd made at the start of this conversation. Hermione felt a little vindicated by it. Charlie was joining whether he wanted to or not. She was sure of it.

"You're just like Percy," Ron continued as he shook his head. "Not sure how either one of you got into Gryffindor," he mumbled the last part under his breath, but Hermione over heard him nonetheless.

A little insecure, she glanced down. She wasn't even sure you were allowed to argue with the sorting hat. But it wouldn't place her in Gryffindor if she really didn't belong. Would it?

"Ah first years," Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by one of Ron's brothers. He'd called this one Percy if she was remembering the introduction correctly. "As a Prefect, I'm glad to hear you're starting a study group. It really is an excellent idea. I'm sure you'll do wonders for Gryffindor. And as your house Prefect, I'm here to offer my assistance in any way I might help."

She wasn't sure what a _prefect_ was, but the shiny 'P' badge on his robes probably had something to do with it. She was tempted to ask about the prefect thing, but her eyes caught Charlie and she remembered a far more important question to ask.

"Oh, actually. I do have a question. You wouldn't happened to know what the rules are for bring food to your room?" She spoke loud enough for Charlie to hear.

"There's nothing in the rule books about keeping snacks in your dorm room. Although, if it gets out of hand, I'm sure your roommates will say something." She sat back a little disappointed she couldn't get one over on Charlie.

"About the dorm rooms," Harry spoke up, grabbing her attention once more, "You wouldn't happened to know what the bed situation is like?"

"It's a dorm room, so we'll be sharing a room with our year mates. Professor McGonagall mentioned that boys and girls are separated along with each year," Hermione answered immediately, not bothering to wait for Percy. She was confident in her knowledge.

"And meals? When is each meal and how much food will be served? Is it going to be like the feast today?"

"There's three main meals, breakfast served starting as early as 5:30 in the morning until the start of the first classes, then lunch is a two hour time block in the afternoon, and dinner is served from 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm. Professor McGonagall mentioned that feasts like today are only for special occasion." Again Hermione answered before Percy could even open his mouth.

At that Harry turned to Hermione completely, causing Percy to walking away as they enter into a heavy conversation until dessert arrived.

Charlie and Harry exchanged gleeful looks before digging into the desserts. Hermione smiled despite herself, listening into the conversation Charlie had been having with Ron about Quidditch as she ate her own.

"So, who does the Hogwarts team play? Other wizarding schools?"

"Ah, nah," Ron answered around a mouthful of pudding. "There no _Hogwarts_ team per se, just the separate house teams. So they play each other over the year."

"But there's only four houses."

"Yeah, so?"

"That's not a lot of games to play."

"Maybe they play multiple times," Harry added reasonably. Hermione didn't know much about sports in general, but that sounded logical.

"Oh no, they just play the once." Ron paused in thought, "Not sure who else they'd play to be honest. There's not that many wizarding school. Not to mention, if there was just the one Hogwarts team, then not nearly as many people would get to play."

"It's a competitive sport, isn't it?"

"Charlie," Harry admonished.

If Hermione didn't know before, then that comment cemented her belief that Charlie was a sportsman. He was one of _those _blokes. She ought to have figured that out sooner really.

Dessert disappeared as the table descended into light conversation. The headmaster gave a real speech. She'd known something was up with the weird one at the beginning. Although she was a little worried about the warning about the third corridor.

She didn't have much time to think about it. As they were all dismissed, Percy gathering all of the first years together to go to their common room.

Moving along, she wasn't surprised when Charlie ended up next to her, her eyes having tracked both twins as they got up so she wouldn't lose sight of them again. Without warning, she elbowed him in the side.

"Aw! What was _that_ for?"

"The sorting," she huffed with her head held high before follow Percy. _Now_, she could forgive Charlie.

* * *

**AN:** At some point, I'm actually going to update when I say I will... Until then, enjoy.

KJ

Side note - We still own nothing Harry Potter related. * passages are from Harry Potter book one.

**PS.** I modeled Ron's eating habits off of my own. I'm the youngest, and if you didn't eat quick the food was often gone. And some times it disappeared right off your plate if you weren't paying attention. I do know that it is extremely uncouth, now. It took half way into college before I was able to consistently eat like a civilized being. Although I normally go back when attending family functions (just ask BR13). And that's enough about me...


	11. Chapter Nine

**_Chapter Nine: Day in the life of a Gryffindor_**

Neville followed the redheaded Prefect up the boys' staircase as he showed them to their dormitory. So far he could honestly say he liked being in Gryffindor. He'd already found not one, but _two_ people who didn't mind hanging out with him. He wasn't sure if they were friends yet, but he'd been nothing but himself for the entire day and they _still_ wanted to be near him. That had to count for something.

And as long as he didn't screw up too badly, he thought he _might_ be able to make one more. Friend, that was. Following the Prefect, Percy, he thought the older boy had said. He couldn't be entirely sure as he'd said the word Prefect more times than he'd said his own name, but he felt like that was right. He was related to his redheaded year mate. And he knew that the taller boy had said his brother's name, but that didn't really help _him_. He didn't have the best of memories after all.

"Now as first years, your dorm room is on this first landing, closest to the staircase, impossible to miss," Percy explained, pointing to the door in question. "While you are allowed further up, please remember that this is just as much your _upperclassmen's_ home as it is your own. And everyone likes their privacy. Now remember if you have any questions, need assistance with anything, I'm always here to help. Enjoy your first night at Hogwarts."

And with that Percy left, turning back around to head back downstairs to the common area.

"Geez, I thought he'd never shut up," Ron stated with a roll of his eyes before pushing forward, leading the way to their new room.

"Oh, he wasn't that bad," one of the Potter Twins replied, his brother nodding right behind him.

"Yeah, well you don't have to live with him. He's a…" Neville tuned the rest of his statement out as he entered the room behind the small group. Fidgeting as he waited for his dorm mates to pick their beds, dragging their trunks casually waiting by the door over to the foot of their chosen beds, he had more pressing matters to worry about. Like how he was supposed to write his letter to Gran without the other boys noticing.

'I can always wait until they're asleep,' he thought as he finally grabbed his own trunk, pulling it to the last bed right next to one of the Potter Twins. 'Yeah, then I can seal it up and get up early enough to make it to the owlery and back before anyone notices.' Neville nodded to himself at his plan. It would work and then he could pen his Gran without feeling embarrassed.

Absentmindedly putting away his things, Neville noted the activities of his new dorm mates. Most everyone was unpacking, except for Ron, who had only gone so far as to grab his sleepwear and a toothbrush before shutting his trunk once more.

"Man am I nickered," he yawned, heading for the door. He was likely heading for the floor restroom, but Neville thought he might regret going to bed without at least taking out his school robes for tomorrow. They were bound to get wrinkled and Gran always said that no one respected a man in a wrinkled robe. "See you blokes in a bit," he finished with a wave, darting out the door in the process.

The Potter Twins were done next, having hung and folded their cloths into the same armoire despite the fact that each boy had their own. Their toad was safely in her cage resting on the desk between their two beds, the sight of which reminding Neville that he ought to get Trevor settled in as well. It was nice that he wasn't the only first year with a toad. He'd have to remember to tell his Gran the news.

Stuffing the last of his things into its proper place, Neville nodded happily as he'd somehow managed to pack every…'Oh no,' he internally complained, his smile dropping from his face. 'How could I forget _that_?' He sighed heavily as he shut his trunk. Now he was going to need Gran to owl them to him. Hopefully, she'd be discrete about it.

In twos his dorm mates shuffled out to the privy, Neville following dejectedly with his own toothbrush. Soon enough the six boys were back in their room ready for bed. Neville stared nervously at the canopy of his bed, waiting patiently for his dorm mates to fall asleep. Eyes struggling to stay open, he finally though it safe to get back up. Shuffling over to his desk, he pulled out a roll of parchment, his ink and quill set already out on the wooden surface.

'Okay, where to start,' he thought as he dipped his quill in the inkwell.

_1 September 1991_

_Dear Gran,_

_Good news. I got into Gryffindor. There are five other boys in my year and three girls. So far they all seem like nice people._

Neville paused as he thought of what to say next. He'd only just met his house mates so there really wasn't a whole lot more for him to mention there, but Gran liked to know everything that happened so he didn't want to leave it at that. Suddenly he got an idea and with another quick dap of his quill, he continued his letter.

_You'll be happy to know that I've met the Potter Twins. They let me share the car on the train ride to Hogwarts and I think we've really hit it off. They're both in Gryffindor too and you'll never guess what pet they've brought with them. A toad. Theirs isn't quite like the one Great Uncle Algie got me, but that's fine. Apparently toads aren't the most desirable pets these days. You might want to tell Great Uncle Algie because I don't think he knows. _

_Anyway, classes start tomorrow and I've got to get some sleep. Don't worry, I won't be sitting alone for breakfast, the Potter Twins and another one of my housemates will be sitting with me. We've already made plans _and_ decided on a study group. _

Neville paused once more with a yawn. He'd certainly need to finish this letter off soon. Or he'd never wake up early enough to send it. Turning back to his letter, he finished off the last few lines.

_I think they'll be my first friends here at Hogwarts. _

_Lots of love, _

_Your grandson, Neville _

_PS – I almost forgot. Could you please send me some undergarments? I seemed to have forgotten to pack some. Thanks Gran._

Neville yawned once more before blowing on the ink. Maybe he should have asked for the quick-dry variety. Shrugging, Neville folded the parchment before stuffing it into an envelope. Hopefully, he'd be able to get up in time to send it. He wasn't sure how long he'd last without clean undergarments.

* * *

Neville yawned, his mouth open wide as he stared at the blank parchment before him. Today had been a rather eventful day and he was rather tired, but he still needed to write his letter to Gran. He had to at least thank her for the quickly delivered parcel of clean undergarments. After all, another day without and he'd start feeling particularly uncomfortable. He already had new classes and first week assignments to worry about, he didn't need to add to the list.

Sighing, Neville got started on his letter.

_2 September 1991_

_Dear Gran,_

_Thanks for sending me some undergarments. It arrived just before dinner so I was able to get the package back up to my dormitory without too much fuss. I'll keep your advice in mind about triple checking my things from now on._

He paused as he thought about his little white lie. It wasn't like Gran needed to know that his package had been intercepted by several of his housemates. Older Gryffindors that had thought she'd sent him cookies and candies and other whatnots like some of the other first year students that had gotten parcels.

He'd been only mildly mortified when they'd opened it up in front of nearly the entire common room. Tossing the neatly pressed undergarments between them until Percy had entered the room. He'd shied away from the commotion as best as he could, but it _had_ been his package. He was only grateful that one of the Potter Twins, Charlie he thought, had swiped his parcel back while Percy had been busy with his lecture on decorum and house unity.

'Yeah,' Neville thought with a nod. 'Gran doesn't need to know about all that.' Turning back to his letter he continued.

_We had our first classes today. Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning and History of Magic after lunch. We shared DADA with the Ravenclaw first years. And I have to say that you were certainly right. They _do_ seem to know all the answers. Well, them, Hermione (she's one of my housemates), and the Potter Twins. I'm really glad they let me in their study group._

_Now before you ask, _yes_ I'm listening to the Professor. Professor Quill seems like a nice guy and he seems to know a lot about Dark Creatures. At least I _think_ he knows a lot about them. Anyway, after class, we had a bit of a break before lunch. We spent it in the common room planning our schedules._

Neville paused once more, quill held above parchment as he thought more about his day. 'Maybe I should be a little more honest,' he thought as he reviewed his last sentence. After all, those spare hours to include their study period after lunch had actually been more Hermione planning their schedule. Sure she took the time to confer a little with Harry, but Charlie and he had mostly just talked about random things. Muggle sports mostly, Charlie seemed particularly interested in a sport that had something to do with a ball. Something about kicking it about and whatnot. Neville still wasn't sure what was so interesting about _that_.

Shaking the thought aside, Neville continued. It wouldn't matter in the end. Gran wouldn't really care about the finer details.

_After lunch and study hall we had History of Magic with the Hufflepuff first years which was really interesting._

Neville hovered over the word, debating with himself if that was the correct description or not. Professor Binns had been a rather…_interesting_…fellow, hadn't he?

_You'll never believe this, but we've got a ghost as a teacher. An actual _ghost_! You must tell me if Professor Binns was around when you attended, Gran. I think that would be just amazing. We've started on the Goblin Rebellion, the first one, and I think it could be a really interest class. At least I think it _might_ be._

_Gran, so far I'm having a really great time. Remember the Potter Twins I talked about yesterday? Well, now I'm almost certain we're friends. Which is really nice even if I can't tell which one is which. Of course most people can't, so I don't think it's _that_ big a deal._

Neville paused to chuckle quietly about that. He could still remember all the whispered comments as he walked the halls with either one of the twins. Sometimes a brave soul would call out to them, saying hello. It was always to Charlie which meant they were almost always wrong. Either because Charlie had stopped to hang back, waiting for Hermione as she chatted with their new professor or some other administrator, like when she caught Professor McGonagall in the hallway today. Or because Charlie was on the other side of him.

But Neville really couldn't poke fun. After all, _he _certainly couldn't keep track of the two. At least not yet. Not like Hermione. How she managed, he just didn't know.

_Anyway, I better head off to bed. Big day tomorrow with another set of classes. Thanks again for the parcel. I'll write you tomorrow._

_Sincerely,_

_Your grandson, Neville_

_PS – Hogwarts really is as fantastic as you made it out to be._

Neville yawned once more as he waited for the ink to dry. He wasn't sure if he could keep this up. Writing this late at night and getting up early just to send it off. And it wasn't like he'd been able to keep his letters a secret. Charlie already knew about them so it was probably only a matter of time before someone else found out.

Why Charlie had been up and fidgeting around the Gryffindor common room at nearly six in the morning was beyond Neville, but because of that the other boy already knew. He was actually a little relieved to find out that one of his new friends didn't think writing home to his Gran was lame like Neville had originally thought.

Actually, now that he thought about it, maybe he didn't have to worry about what the others would think. 'Yeah,' Neville nodded as he neatly folded his letter. 'I think I'll start writing these earlier. Like maybe around lunch or before dinner,' he finished with one more solid nod. He loved his Gran. He had nothing to hide.

* * *

Neville shuffled into his dorm room in a hurry, a whirlwind of arms and books and rolls of parchment as he attempted to jam all his new material into his desk. He'd known that Hogwarts would be hard, but hadn't really grasped the finer points of that until today. While he didn't have more than a few reading assignments, mostly catch-up reading to get him at least to the same point as the twins because no amount of catch-up would get him to Hermione's level of preparedness, he'd still managed to collected more rolls of parchment, inches of notes on one subject or another, before the week was even out.

Neville huffed as he finally got his things settled, pinning the new schedule above his desk so he could look at the marked page. Granted, all of his work, each roll and every inch of notes was more a result of Hermione's rather thorough study group which she'd scheduled twice a day already. Once during their assigned study period and once more after dinner.

She'd color coded each session, each color representing a different subject which was _supposed_ to help him remember what to prepare for ahead of time except for the fact that he couldn't seem to remember which color went with which class. Which in turn meant that he had to bring everything to each session, hence why he'd nearly collapsed in his chair under the weight.

He sighed into his arms as he rested his head down on his desk. At this rate, he wasn't sure he'd make it. Hogwarts was a _lot_ harder than he'd thought. Glancing up, Neville caught sight of a roll of parchment rolling across his desk. He caught it just before it fell to the ground, fumbling with it a bit before he managed to get a firm grip on it.

He sighed in relief as he sat it back down on the cool surface of his desk, lightly cursing his rather clumsy nature. As it was, he'd already tripped over his own feet a number of times. The result of which was a crushed roll of notes, scoffed knees, and a bruised ego as now some of the older Gryffindors were calling him some rather nasty names. At least one of the Potter Twins had been around to help him up. He thought it _might_ have been Charlie, but he couldn't be too sure.

Staring down at the parchment resting on his desk, he remembered his decision to try writing to Gran earlier. Glancing up at the clock hanging on their shared dormitory wall, Neville noted the time. Good. He had a half hour before dinner began. It should be plenty of time to write to his grandmother.

Pulling his inkwell closer, Neville unrolled the parchment and stared. He had no idea where to begin.

_3 September 1991_

_Dear Gran,_

He started, pausing almost immediately after as he tried to figure out where to start. Today had been, _eventful_, to say the least. 'Oh well,' he thought before putting his quill back to parchment. 'Better start from the top.'

_You'll never guess what happened to me this morning. After breakfast we, the Potter Twins, Hermione, and I, left early for class. Which turned out to be a good thing because the staircase _moved_ on us on our way up the tower. I mean it really moved while we were trying to get to class. It was actually kind of cool._

_So anyway, we found another way around it to get to class, but when we got there instead of the Professor, there was a _cat_ perched on the edge of the Professor's desk waiting for us. We thought it was odd because it was getting later and later and still the Professor hadn't shown. A couple of my housemates even raced in relieved to have beat the Professor, only when they moved to sit down, _bam_, the cat's gone and changed into our Professor._

_Can you believe it? Professor McGonagall's an animigus! A tabby cat with these squarish marks around her eyes where her glasses normally are. It was incredible. It almost made up for the few points we lost because of our late housemates. I still can't believe our Head of House would take points away from us, but I guess you would approve. After all, they were late and it really wouldn't be fair for her to play favorites._

Neville paused as he thought of that. Professor McGonagall certainly was strict. Probably even more so than Gran, but he didn't think that was a bad thing. The twins certainly didn't mind and Hermione seemed to approve so that had to mean something. Thinking of his friends, he remembered how much better they all were at transfiguration and studying and just _everything_ really. He certainly hoped he wasn't holding them back.

Returning to his letter, Neville picked back up were he'd left off.

_So far, transfiguration is definitely the hardest subject, but don't worry. My friends are helping me through it with the study group I mentioned before. With their help I'll definitely make you proud Gran._

For a moment, Neville thought he felt the telltale sign of tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, but he bit it back. He was sure he could do it. He wouldn't make a liar out of himself with that declaration.

_You know how I said we lost house points for my late classmates? Well, we actually ended the class with getting all those point back and a little more. You see, my friends Charlie and Hermione were the only ones in the class to complete our assignment, turning matchsticks into needles._

_Charlie was the first to get his stick to even change a little while Hermione was the first to complete the whole task. Of course Harry wasn't far behind either. Harry got his matchstick to completely change first thing in our study session after lunch and he did it without any help._

_I…_

Neville paused mid-sentence as he tried to think of the most tactful way to write that he completely sucked at the exercise despite the fact that both Charlie _and_ Hermione had come over to help him. Of course when Hermione joined in, it _did_ leave him more confused than when it was just Charlie. He'd kind of felt like he was in the middle of one of their fights except they hadn't exactly been fighting. But that didn't really change the facts that he'd still been unable to get it.

Swallowing thickly, Neville tried the sentence again.

_I still need more practice with it, but my friends are helping me so I'm sure I'll have it down before our next transfiguration class._

_Anyway, after transfiguration, we had herbology. And Gran, you know I liked the subject before, but I think I really love it now. Professor Spout is very nice and knowledgeable. After class she pulled me aside to talk to me. Despite only having worked with a really small plant, she seems to think I have a knack for it. I don't know why though. Charlie (at least I think it was Charlie) seemed to know just as much as me if not more. _

_Speaking of Charlie, it's actually, really cool that both he and Harry seem to like the class almost as much as I do. I think together we'll have loads of fun in that class._

_Finally, after lunch and our study period we had our first charms class. Professor Flitwick is an odd fellow, but _very_ enthusiastic. Unfortunately, we didn't get to learn any actual charms today. We're going to work on the magical theory behind the charms first before we get to the practical work, but I think that's going to be a fun class too._

Neville looked up from his writing to glance at the clock. He'd need to wrap this letter up quickly if he wanted to have time to run up to the owlery before dinner.

_Anyway, it's almost time for dinner, so I better get going._

_Miss you already,_

_Your grandson, Neville_

_PS – I've scribbled a copy of my class schedule like you requested below. And thanks for sending the quick-drying ink._

**_(Class Time Block) - Monday | _****_Tuesday | _****_Wednesday | _****_Thursday | _****_Friday_**

**_(8:15am - 9:00am) - _**_DADA | __Transfiguration | __DADA | __Transfiguration | __Potions_

**_(9:15am-10:00am)_**_ \- Free period | __Herbology | __Herbology | __Herbology | __Potions_

**_(11:30am-1:00pm) _**_\- __Lunch_

**_(1:15pm - 2:00pm) _**_\- __Study Hall | __Study Hall | __Study Hall | __Study Hall | Free period_

**_(2:15pm - 3:00pm) _**_-_ _History of Magic | __Charms | __History of Magic | __Charms | Free_

**_(5:00pm - 7:00pm)_**_ \- Dinner_

**_Midnight - _**_Astronomy on Wednesday_

* * *

Neville sat down with a comforting pat to his belly, pleasantly full yet horribly homesick. Searching through his desk, Neville pulled out his study materials for the evening. Glancing up every couple of seconds to verify that yes, they were supposed to be working on their newest assignment, a four inch essay for their DADA class. It was simple enough, summarize the chapter reading. Technically it was already done, Hermione having scheduled a first draft to be written during their study period, but Harry had suggested that we go over what we'd written together tonight so Neville pulled it out of his desk.

His things gathered, Neville's gaze darted over to the clock hanging on the wall. The twins had already popped into the room and left, heading back to the common room so they could help set up. Well, he thought that maybe Harry wanted to set up and Charlie just got roped into it like he always seemed to, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact that he currently had the room to himself, Ron, Seamus and Dean already in the common room playing a game of exploding snaps. So he was sure if he hurried, he could pen a quick letter to his Gran. Not that he _had_ to do it in private, he just preferred it that way. Yeah, it had nothing to do with anything else.

Nervously he glanced back up at the clock. Hermione kept them on a strict schedule so he would have to _really_ rush it. And with less than fifteen minutes, he'd have to find time to run up to the owlery later. He certainly wouldn't make it before he had to study.

Hastily grabbing a roll of parchment, Neville smoothed it out, dipping his quill into the inkwell before he began his letter.

_4 September 1991_

_Dear Gran,_

_I've just come in from dinner so I only have a short time to write you before I need to rush off. Don't worry, I'm rushing off to study so I'm fine. I haven't forgotten anything major in at least a day._

He paused to think on that. It was true. He hadn't forgotten to do anything in a bit of time. He'd have to thank Hermione and her strict schedule. And the twins for their quick reminders, especially Charlie (at least he thought it was Charlie) who never let him get too far if he'd forgotten something. If this was what having friends was like then it was definitely a nice feeling.

_So far today has been great. And I mean so far because we've still got one more class, astronomy. Can you believe it? We've actually got a class at midnight. But don't worry about me getting enough sleep. My friends and I have already discussed it. We're going to take a bit of a nap before the class so we can stay as rested as possible._

His quill hovered over the paper as he remember the rest of his dorm mates' thoughts on their decision. The other three boys, Ron, Dean and Seamus were excited to stay up until class. After all, the Prefects couldn't force them off to bed when they still had a class to attend. But that just seemed like a really bad idea. They had transfiguration bright and early tomorrow and Professor McGonagall didn't really seem the type to relax on her attendance policy just because they had a late class. Hopefully his other housemates knew what they were doing.

Turning back to his letter he continued.

_I know we just started, but we've already received our first written assignment. Four inches for DADA so it's not much, but it's still a bit of a shock to receive something other than reading assignments this early in the term._

_Actually, I think you'd be proud that I've already started working on the assignment. My study group that I told you about is really good at keeping us on track. We work on the assignments together which is a big help and surprisingly a little fun. I'm not much help yet, but I've decided to try my best. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to help out with herbology assignments or something like that when we get them?_

_I just realized that I haven't really told you about my friends. Well, as you know, we're all a part of a study group, the Potter Twins, Hermione and I. I actually feel pretty bad because I still can't tell the Potter Twins apart. They're two very different people too so that just makes it a little worse. Charlie (at least I think it's Charlie) seems to really like Quidditch. Funny enough, I've learned a lot more on the sport because of it._

_Harry tends to hang out with Hermione more. They talk about lots of things, mostly muggle school things that I can't really follow, but they do really get along._

Neville sighed as he thought about it. Yeah, Harry did get along fairly well with Hermione. It was just a shame that Charlie seemed to always rub her the wrong way.

_Oh, I actually think I forgot to mention that the twins grew up in the muggle world. Can you believe it? The _Potter_Twins growing up with muggles. They didn't even know about magic and the Wizarding World until they got their letters to Hogwarts. It's really hard to believe, but then I find myself the expert on all things magical and it's impossible _not_to._

He paused once more, hesitant to pen his next thought as he wasn't sure how Gran would receive the news. Hopefully he could spin it in such a way that Gran would never notice.

_Well, there's one more thing I forgot to mention about my friends, but don't worry it's nothing big. It's just that I'm the resident expert on all things magical because Hermione's a muggleborn. But she's really, _really_ smart. You couldn't even tell by just talking to her._

Neville nodded to himself as he penned the sentence. Yeah, Hermione certainly didn't act like any muggleborn. Even the twins had moments of hesitance while Hermione just charged right through. She was actually a little bossy if he was honest. Of course that wasn't _really_ a bad thing. After all, he was sure she would get along just fine with Gran.

_Anyway, I've got to go. I'm running a bit late for my study group. I'll write you again tomorrow and tell you all about my astronomy class._

_Love,_

_Your grandson, Neville_

_PS – Hogwarts food is good, but it's nothing like Binky's. Can you tell her I miss her?_

* * *

Neville sighed as he collapsed onto his bed staring at the four posters and crimson canopy as he thought over the day he'd already had. "What a day," Neville mumbled into the quiet air. "What a _week_," he finished as he turned on his side. Not even an hour after lunch and he just wanted to forget the day he'd had. Forget the disaster that was potions. Forget the hard stare that seemed to pierce his very soul. Forget that rather ornery Professor Snape.

So instead he stared out at his dorm room trying to think of anything else, absolutely anything would do. Laying on his side, his eyes caught the sight of the four poster bed next to him, Charlie's to be exact. And despite the fact that he was pretty sure it was Harry he found in that bed when they woke up every morning, he was still sure that the bed did in fact belong to Charlie. After all, the soft 'good night, Harry' always came from right next to him.

Of course if Neville hadn't tried to write his letters to Gran in the dead of night, he might think that Charlie was just a weird sleeper. Starting the night with his head pointed the correct way towards the wall and ending the morning in the reverse position, head towards the center of the room. But Neville had seen the two curled up on the same bed both nights he'd penned his letter late at night. Charlie (he thought) with his head to the wall, his nose crunched up with his brother's socked feet shoved into his face as Harry (he was still pretty sure on that one) slept with his head to the door.

Neville was sure he was the only one to notice. As it was, all anyone else ever saw was one Potter in that bed at a time. And sure Harry was clearly the messier of the two, sprawled out across the bed in such a haphazard way that Neville wondered how both he and Charlie could share the same space, but they were also so much alike. Really, it was pretty impossible to tell the two apart.

And of course it probably helped that Charlie seemed to have the habit of getting up _really _early. Neville wasn't sure what his friend got up to in the two or so hours he was up (and he only had that rough estimate because of those first few nights when he'd rushed to the owlery to mail his letter, he could certainly be wrong there), but he had a pretty solid suspicion that he'd taken to doing different things. Actually, Charlie's unusual familiarity with the seemingly endless corridors of Hogwarts made Neville think that his friend spent a lot of that time wandering the hallways.

Briefly Neville wondered when that would get old. What would his friend do then? Of course the other day when Neville had finally dragged himself from bed, the second one awake out of the whole room, he'd found Charlie and Hermione chatting by the fireplace, a book open between the two of them as Hermione gestured wildly to whatever was on the page. Certainly they were better friends then Hermione let on and Charlie would at least have Hermione's company in the quiet early mornings.

Neville sighed as he shifted back over to lay on his back. Early mornings just reminded him of _this_ morning which would have been absolutely disastrous if not for Charlie's timely intervention. He'd slept in today, probably would have missed breakfast _and_ the start of potions if not for the fact that Harry seemed to always sleep in. Thankfully, Charlie had stopped to wake him as well when he went to wake his brother.

Really, he should have known that it was going to be a rough day with a start like that.

Sitting up, Neville glanced over at his desk. He was still alone, already thinking about today, now was as good a time as any to bite the bullet and tell Gran. Sliding off his bed, Neville slumped into his chair, grabbing a blank roll of parchment in the process. Yeah, he should really just get this over with.

_6 September 1991_

_Dear Gran,_

He began with a sigh, already regretting having to tell her how much he sucked at something. She'd be _so_ disappointed.

_Today was a really hectic day. Remember how I told you yesterday that we were really getting into a nice routine and that I was starting to truly settle into life at Hogwarts? Well, that's no longer completely true._

_While my friends and I have a really good plan for succeeding, I seem to have stumbled upon a _very_ large hurdle. You remember what I said about transfiguration? How that was going to be my hardest class? Well, I take that back. Simply put, it is _not_ in the least bit the toughest class I have this term. Potions is._

_By far potions has to be my _least_ favorite class as well as the _hardest_._

Neville paused as a shiver ran down his spine just thinking about the class. He was sure if it wasn't for Hermione's help, he'd have gotten his first 'T', the first of many he was sure.

_I actually almost melted my cauldron attempting our first potion. Thankfully, I've got my friends to help me so I don't think I'll do _too_ horribly, so hopefully you won't have to worry _too_ much._

_Of course, on that note, I'm definitely going to need several more cauldrons. One of the twins suggested that I practice some of the basics in our free time. I think it was Harry, but I didn't have the heart to ask. Hopefully, that doesn't make me a bad person._

_Oh, I just remembered, I'm going to need more potion ingredients as well. Hopefully with the extra practice I'll be able to pass this class._

His quill hovered above the page as he thought over his next words. He didn't want Gran to think poorly on one of his Professors, especially given how much the twins seemed to like the man, but he did want Gran to know all about his experiences.

Sighing he moved to continue.

_Professor Snape seems like a driven man. He expects a lot from us. In fact he started right in on the twins the moment class started. Asking them both question after question without pause. Of course they both managed to answer each question with ease. Which really shouldn't have been a surprise because we'd spend yesterday reviewing most of the material in the first chapter._

_Still, I'm kind of glad he didn't pick on me. I just don't think I would have been able to remember any of the answers under that kind of pressure._

Neville paused again debating with himself if he wanted Gran to know about the Slytherins. It wasn't like they were all that bad, but they really _weren't_ the nicest. They teased him almost relentlessly, but at least Malfoy never let it get too bad. Despite the fact that their families ran in similar circles, he didn't really know the other boy. But it was nice that he seemed to care enough to keep his fellow Slytherins in check.

Turning back to his letter, Neville decided to leave that out. There were just some things that Gran didn't need to know.

_On another note something far more exciting happened today. After lunch, one of the Professors posted a note about _flying_ lessons. We're to have our first lesson next Wednesday with the Slytherins. I want to say I'm looking forward to it because my friends are really excited, but I can't help but remember how _clumsy_ I am. How am I supposed to be any good at not tripping up or messing something up in the _air_ when I can't do that on the _ground?

Neville winced at the thought. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to flying lessons, and that wasn't just because they'd be sharing it with the Slytherins.

_I don't know. Maybe it won't be so bad. I'll just have to keep my spirits up. Maybe you could send me a bit of advice? I'm sure Great Uncle Algie has some pretty useful thoughts on the matter. Anyway, I'll tell you all about it next week. I'll write you as soon as we're done with the lesson._

_I've just realized that this will be my first weekend away. Don't worry, I've already got plans with my friends. Believe it or not, I'm going to learn to play a _muggle_ sport. Toeball or something like that. Charlie (and I know it was Charlie this time because he's the only one that gets excited about kicking a ball around) has decided to take us all out to play the game. We're going to borrow one of our housemate's ball and take it out by the lake._

_I don't know if I'm excited about the prospect or dreading it. Muggle sports. I'm not that good at the regular ones so I'm not sure I'll be any good at these muggle ones._

_Anyway, I've got to go. We're actually supposed to take the toeball out in a few and I want to send this before I leave._

_Thanks for listening,_

_Your grandson, Neville_

_PS – Don't worry about our homework. We've actually managed to finish most of it (well, except for Harry, he still needs to re-write his transfiguration essay. Don't tell anyone I said this, but his handwriting is atrocious). All we have left is the potions essay which you will be glad to hear we plan to finish after dinner tonight. Write you soon._

Neville waited a moment, even with this quick dry ink you had to wait a little before rolling it up. Finally, after counting a few seconds under his breath, he folded his letter, tucking it into an envelope before replacing the cork in his inkwell.

Rising from his seat, Neville hurried to the door. If he was quick about it, he'd be able to make it up to the owlery and back before anyone even noticed he was gone. Sliding out of the door and walking quickly down the stairs, Neville was in the Gryffindor common room in a matter of seconds.

Crossing the room he spotted Ron and Harry playing a game of chess by the fireplace (and it had to be Harry because Harry was the only one of their year mates that would willing play a game with Ron more than once. Ron never went easy on anyone). Curled up on the couch nearby was Hermione a book in her lap. Neville was sure she'd call it light reading, but really the tome was bigger than her head so he didn't really believe her. Oh well, maybe it was a girl thing?

Closer to the door, Neville spotted the other Potter twin, Charlie, talking animatedly with Dean the toeball tossed absentmindedly between his hands. Neville was sure they were talking about that muggle sport they were supposed to be learning later, it almost always was.

Neville shrugged as he reached the portal. Ready to leave, he was stopped by the call of his name.

"Hey Neville," Charlie called, his attention shifted to him as he held up the toeball. "You're still coming to play later, right?"

Neville nodded, still surprised that someone had noticed him. He wasn't used to being seen. Wasn't used to being included in anything. It was actually kind of nice.

"Cool, see you in a bit," Charlie replied before returning to his previous conversation.

Neville gulped before turning back to leave. Yeah, today had been tough, but with friends, _real_ friends, he was sure it wouldn't matter in an hour or two. He had better things to look forward to.

* * *

**AN:** I know, it's a day late, but it's here. On a side note, I really don't like the formatting for . So, yes the schedule was supposed to be a table, but we had to edit it to look like that. Not the prettiest, but I suppose it gets the job done. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was fun for us to write it from Neville's point of view. For the next chapter we're going to keep going with point of views that are not Harry or Charlie. Some how, I don't think you'll guess who's next.

KJ


	12. Chapter Ten

_Chapter Ten: The trouble with befriending Gryffindors_

The parchment was rough against his fingers as he turned the pristinely cut edges, thick and embroidered with his family colors, over in his hands. The letter was watermarked with his family crest. The special ordered parchment used only by his father. And someday, by him, though that day was still a distant pinprick on the horizon, so far away it felt like a lifetime in his grasp.

The letter weighed heavily in his hands. The thick weight of the high quality parchment mixed with responsibility. A duty thrust upon him with his entrance to Hogwarts. The new sensation, the result of the loosened hold of his father's many tasks now being doled out to him. It was part test, part expectation as his father waited to see just how strong he stood in the face of such responsibility, the weight of _more_ expectation.

The heavy parchment held within his hands was proof of that trust, though limited, to see it through. Though that knowledge did nothing to warm his heart the way he always thought it would. At least not as it was, laced with nearly oppressive amounts of disappointment. He was _failing_ his father.

The warm glow of the Slytherin common room fire burned next to him as he sat ramrod at the edge of the plush couch. In a time like this, he would have preferred to slouch. The desire to fold into himself, to sigh heavily into his well-manicured hands, pressed down upon him with such tiresome weight that he doubted he'd be able to lift himself up once more.

He wanted to relax into the plush cushions beneath him as he contemplated his father's strict words. His clear dissatisfaction pouring from the letter still clutched between his hands. But he was a Slytherin now. More importantly, a _Malfoy_. And that meant he was no longer a child that could act as he pleased. Not here at Hogwarts. Here in the reverent halls of the most prestigious wizarding school in the world, he could no sooner show weakness to his housemates then he could to the mudblood rabble that littered this once fine campus like the trash they were.

Draco had an image to maintain. Lifted to a position of power within his house, he could not relax. Would likely _never_ be able to breathe easily without concern for how he may be perceived. This was not a game anymore. This was _Hogwarts_. This was why he sat here, posture perfect as he considered what he could do to please his father. A seemingly impossible task thrust forever out of his reach since he'd begun his own private lessons some five years ago. Alone.

As always, his father was displeased with him, but not for the same reasons that his fellow classmates struggled with. No, his marks were high. Which really wasn't a difficult task to accomplish given that they'd only just started their second week of classes. He'd done his part as a leader among the first year Slytherins by gaining their house the most points for their year. He'd yet to lose a single point, hadn't even come close to such an occurrence. And it wasn't likely that he'd garner enough negative attention to gain a detention.

On the surface he was doing well. More than well in fact. But he had _not_ accomplished the one goal his father had explicitly given him. Gain access to Charlie Potter, the boy-who-lived. Worse yet, he'd made absolutely no progress on that front as he'd only managed to run into Harry Potter, the wrong Potter Twin, along with that squib Longbottom on the train.

Of course he knew he'd need to get under both Potter Twins' good graces in order to influence Charlie. For one, he couldn't actually tell which was which so he couldn't really afford to be stiff with one of them, not that he wanted to be anyway. They were twins. Magical twins. And Draco had once read a dark magic book that had talked vaguely about the additional magical possibilities that came from such a magical anomaly.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Potter Twins had some kind of connection. Some power he had yet to figure out that they alone shared. And while he didn't know what that would mean for his father's end goal, a goal he'd yet to divulge to Draco, he knew that getting to Charlie Potter wouldn't be as simple as his father made it out to be. No, he'd need them both. Would have to court them as a unit treated equally until he could figure out which was Charlie on a regular bases. Then, well, he'd get his cues from Charlie on how to treat his brother.

But his father didn't get that. He expected Draco to be able to snake his way into Charlie Potter's life with ease. Which if the boy had been placed in Slytherin, _might_ have been an option. Draco would have at least made some progress whether he'd befriended him or not. But Charlie Potter wasn't in Slytherin, neither of the Potter Twins were. So it wouldn't be that simple. Not that his father cared.

And sure, his father's letter hadn't been worded with obvious signs of displeasure. No angry words at his lack of progress. Not even a pointed comments about the Potter Twins, outside of a single mention, a suggestion that he introduce himself properly for the sake of the _family_.

But Draco could read between the lines. After all, this was a letter from his _father_. Not the rather common, everyday type inquiry from his mother. He'd gotten one such letter just the other day asserting her confidence that he'd do well at tomorrow's flying lesson. It had been filled with cheer and confidence and _love_, and Draco had folded it back up and stashed it within the ornate lockbox that his mother had given him for his first year at Hogwarts. Placed there for safekeeping only to be opened if he felt another batch of homesickness creep up at him.

No, this was not that type of letter. How could it be when it was from his _father_? And the hard lines of his perfect script meant more than just the surface meaning of each words. So he could read between the lines. Had been taught too. Thus, he could see his father's disappointment as clear as a brilliant morning sky even if no one else could. His father's intentions were not so easily discerned from a simple read through, not that he had any plans of allowing anyone to actually read his personal correspondences.

'Now what am I to do,' he thought as he lifted his gaze from the folded white parchment within his hands. As his gaze spanned across the common room, he spotted Crabbe and Goyle playing a loud game of exploding snaps. Ignoring his rather dim henchmen, he continued his search, spotting the seemingly random groups of students scattered about the common room talking softly amongst themselves. Some would be study groups while others friendly groups taking evening tea together, but none of it was actually random. No, not in Slytherin. All groupings were calculated, friends built on the premise that they might one day help elevate individual status. This was what Slytherin was all about.

Shifting his gaze back to the small coffee table in front of him, his own tea and biscuits long forgotten on the oak surface, Draco returned to the problem at hand. What _could_ he possibly to do to make some kind of head way with the Potter Twins?

Whatever he did, it would need to be soon. Anything to keep his father away from Hogwarts as the man had threatened in his letter. He did not need his father to introduce him to the Potter Twins. He was not a toddler in need of a playdate arranged on his behalf. It would be far too embarrassing as most if not all of the Slytherin upperclassmen would know what his father was attempting to do. But it had been over a week already and he was no closer to introducing himself to the Potter Twins then he was on the first of September.

As Gryffindors, it was even harder for him to rectify that situation. As it was, they had only one class together and Potions was _not_ a time for him to attempt socializing. Not when his godfather, Head of Slytherin House, had so stressed the importance of his class. He was not willing to disappoint the man in favor of pleasing his father. Not yet anyway.

'Curse that bloody house,' Draco thought as he began to refold his father's letter, tucking it out of sight. It was not the first time he cursed the Gryffindor House and he doubted it would be the last, but he could not stop himself. If only the Potter Twins had been placed in Slytherin, wishful thinking he knew, but it would have made everything so much easier.

Draco suppressed a sigh as someone plopped down beside him. He ignored them, in favor of pondering his current situation. After all, avoiding another letter from his father was far more important than maintaining a social image.

'What's the best way to befriend a Gryffindor?' he thought, hands moving out to fiddle with his tea cup. While he'd originally been willing to wait it out, sure that at some point he'd have an opportunity to get closer to the Potter Twins, he now knew that his father would not allow much more time to pass without interfering. So, it was time to make a better plan. A more active plan. 'Come on Draco, think,' he silently ordered himself. Hoping that he knew Gryffindors well enough to plan the perfect opportunity.

'Gryffindors trust heroes and bravery and foolish behavior, how can I orchestrate a situation like that.' Tea cup in hand, Draco took a small sip of the cold liquid as he thought over every piece of information he'd gained about the Potter Twins over the last week. 'There's the mudblood,' he thought taking one more sip before setting his cup back down. 'Surprisingly sharp, but still vulnerable to attack.' But he discarded the idea. She was too much of an unknown. He didn't know her well enough, and didn't partially care to, to anticipate what she might do when pressed. He didn't need that kind of variable in a plan as important as this one. It would risk too much, especially when he had such a better alternative…

"Draco what's the matter?" Pansy questioned, interrupting him from his thoughts.

"I'm not in the mood, Pansy," he replied with a bored tone, plucking a biscuit from the plate in front of him.

Pansy shifted her attention, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her gaze to him. Curious, Draco followed her previous line of sight, noting Greengrass and several of the other first year girls sitting by another fireplace as they chatted together. One looked their way, quickly turning her head back to the conversation at hand when she spotted his gaze. "Get in the mood," Pansy ordered as he turned away from the scene, an annoyed sigh escaping from his lips. "I'm not going away," she finished, leaning over him to pluck a biscuit from his plate.

"What is it this time, Pansy? I really don't have time for your games," he questioned, resigned to the fact that they had an image to maintain.

"This isn't a party. We're not at home. So if you want people to follow you around without _daddy's_ money, then you're going to have to make sacrifices," she stated, the annoying tilt to her voice grating on his nerves. "Besides," she added. "We're practically engaged. We should start getting used to each other's company."

Draco nearly scoffed at the idea. "We're not engaged, Pansy," he replied instead, easily shaking off the hand that had found his thigh. He'd already discussed it with mother, talking her out of the idea of such an engagement with the argument that they were far too young. She'd caved not because of age, but because he'd made a strong case that _anything_ could happen between now and the time he was twenty when he'd be expected to selection a suitable partner. His mother was far too calculating to limit the Malfoy name by tying it down now.

"Look I've got to be seen with you several times throughout the day to maintain _my_ image. _You're_ going to live with it," she stated, cutting him off before he could counter her statement. "_Or_ I'll tell _daddy dearest_ about how you're already falling behind Gryffindors in potions."

"I'm doing no such thing," he snapped, his voice quiet so that no one would overhear their conversation. "I'll have you know I'm number one in the class."

"Not by much," she countered easily, leaning over him once more to grab another one of his biscuits. "And do you _really_ think leading is _all_ that will matter to him?" she finished with a smug smile, leaning into him without touching him this time. He knew what it probably looked like to the other first year girls, but he couldn't do anything to dissolve the image without embarrassing them _both_.

"Be quiet then," he finally conceded, resigned to the fact that she would remain by his side and there was little he could do to stop her. She was very good at this particular game. "I'm not in the mood to chat," he finished before turning away from her.

Even without looking at her, he could tell she was rolling her eyes likely annoyed with him. She stayed for another minute before getting up to go, a mumbled 'boys really are stupid' said underneath her breath before she moved to speak louder, "I'll see you later, Draco."

Draco nearly growled his frustration, but remembered himself. He really didn't need to worry about _Pansy _on top of everything else.

"Hey Draco, you want to play this round?" Goyle asked, Crabbe cleaning his face off with the edge of his robes, the clear loser of that round.

"No, I think I'll head to bed early," Draco replied, climbing to his feet as he spoke. He didn't bother cleaning up his small snack, assured that the Hogwarts' house elves would clear the mess just as efficiently as they managed to deliver the small treats. After dinner tea was, after all, a nightly Slytherin tradition.

"Oh yeah, for flying lessons right?" Crabbe's voice followed him.

"Still don't see why we need them," Goyle grumbled aloud.

"_We_ don't, stupid. It's the muggleborns' fault we're even doing them," Crabbe countered parroting words Draco had said to them both countless times now.

Draco ignored them, leaving them to their squabble as he headed up to the first years' room. He didn't have time for that either. No, he had the beginnings of a plan that needed to be ironed out. Something with Longbottom. He knew that disgrace of pureblood would be his way in, he was sure of it. The boy was barely more than a squib, constantly finding himself in all kinds of situations that Draco could probably save him from. He even seemed to have a target on his back from his very own _house_. So this really shouldn't be that hard.

* * *

Chewing quietly, Draco finished his breakfast as he silently reviewed his plan. He need only wait for Longbottom to give him an opening. Hopefully, that would be today.

His perfectly portioned breakfast complete (he never took more than he could civilly eat in one setting), Draco sat down his cutlery, fork and knife placed in a perfect diagonal across his finished plate as a deft hand removed the napkin from his lap. Running the soft cloth edges across the corners of his mouth before setting it off to the left of his place setting, Draco lifted his attention to take in his surroundings.

Noting the light murmur of his housemate, quiet and controlled unlike _some_ unruly houses, Draco's gaze glanced over the activity of the Great Hall. His back to the wall, Draco had the perfect seat at his house table to observe the activity of the entire Hall. Which was to be expected, given that he'd made it a habit to get up at least a half hour earlier than most of his housemates so he could obtain this particular seat. The position was optimal, allowing him to watch the Potter Twins and their '_friends'_ without making his attention too obvious.

Today the twins were chatting amicably with the rest of their year mates. Even Weasley seemed to be getting into the conversation despite the fact that he'd just made it down to breakfast. To this day, Draco had yet to see the uncouth blood traitor engage in any kind of conversation until _after_ his second plate. So Draco thought it was perhaps a rather good guess to assume they were talking about today's flying lesson.

Absentmindedly following the activity across the room, Draco barely noticed as the post arrived. He slid the _Daily Prophet_ open with practiced ease, knowing that despite him having zero to no interest in what was held within the pages he had to at least pretend to read it. His daily subscription had been set-up by his father. So appearances had to be maintained.

Across the hall, owls continued delivering their parcels, letters and papers being distributed to various students as they chatted amongst themselves. Draco almost ignored the commotion until he spotted an owl landing near Longbottom, a small parcel held within its sharp talons. Rampant, he watched as the owl hopped over to the disgrace of a pureblood, setting the package in front of the round faced boy before flying away. Draco grinned at the sight of it, the plan he'd developed last night floating to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Crabbe, Goyle," he called down the Slytherin table, not bothering to take his eyes off of Longbottom as he fiddled with his package.

"Yeah?" Goyle questioned around a mouthful of food. Draco scowled in disgusted, turning quickly to reprimand his lackeys with a sharp tongue.

"Don't talk with your mouthful, you buffoon," Draco snapped, ripping a pumpkin spice muffin from the larger boy's hands. "And I don't _care_ if you're still eating," he continued, shooting a glare at Crabbe stopping the protest before it could fully escape from the round boy's mouth. "Hurry up, I have a job for you both," he finished, his gaze shifting back to the Potter Twins in the process.

The sound of riotous eating filled the air as his goons shoved the entire contents of their plates down their gluttonous throats. Inhaling their food in a manner reminiscent of that _Weasley _slouch across the hall_. _Draco frowned. They had absolutely no manners to speak of. Certainly their behavior was unbefitting of a Slytherin, let alone a _pureblood_. 'If I ever ate like that,' he thought bitterly, disgust covering his features. 'Mother would have my hide.' Shaking his head to dislodge the unpleasant image, Draco focused on the task at hand.

"Whatcha want us to do, Draco?" Crabbe questioned, thankfully _not_ around a mouthful of food.

Shifting his attention across the Great Hall, Draco lifted a hand, pointing it in the direction of the Gryffindor first years. "See that package in front of Longbottom," he began, pausing to make sure his dull-witted lackeys were following his instructions.

"Yeah, sure looks like Longbottom's gotten more knickers from his granny or something," Crabbe hummed in amusement, Goyle nodding along with a laugh.

"I don't _care_ what it is," he snapped, not in the mood for their pathetic jokes. "Just get it for me, _now_."

Clearly lost, his dim-witted goons exchanged confused looks, "Yeah, sure, but what if it's knickers?" Crabbe questioned.

"I don't think your Longbottom's size," Goyle added dimly.

Frustrated with the response, Draco suppressed the urge to _hit_ something, namely the two idiots he'd been saddled with for henchmen. Taking one deep calming breath, Draco ignored their statement and just moved on, "It doesn't matter what it is, you dolts. Besides, he's already opened it. Which means it's probably _not_ knickers. Now get over there and bring it _back_ to me," he ordered with a scowl, leaving no room for argument.

"Sure, Draco," they chorused together, getting up from their spots at the table before making their way over to Longbottom and the Potter Twins.

Draco sat back, watching quietly as he waited. He would give it a solid five second count before following. It would give those two buffoons enough time to snag the object, play with it a bit before he finally stepped in to save the day. It would be the perfect act of heroism. A grand gesture as he handed it back over to Longbottom with a _sincere_ apology on behalf of his two goons. And it would certainly make him fast friends with the Potter Twins.

Lost in a daydream of the multiple words of praise his father would bestow upon him once he learned that Draco had gone above and beyond what had been asked of him, Draco was jolted from his thoughts to notice that he'd let twice the amount of time pass him by then he'd originally intended. Hastily rising from his seat, he strode across the hall as quickly as he could to the Gryffindor table.

He was steps away and ready to interfere when Professor McGonagall beat him to it. 'Damn it all,' he cursed, as the Deputy Headmistress glowered at his two idiot lackeys.

"Is there a problem here?" she asked just as he stepped forward, slamming against Crabbe's shoulder hard enough for the idiot to get the gist and toss over Longbottom's trinket.

"Not at all, Professor," Draco answered quickly, following the arc of the trinket as it was passed back to Longbottom before continuing, "We were just leaving." He pushed hard on both boys, forcing them to start moving away from the area. "No harm, no foul," he added, following after them in the process.

Leading them out of the Great Hall and back towards the dungeons, Draco didn't stop until they were just outside of the Slytherin common room.

"Sorry Draco, we weren't able to get his Remembrall for you," Crabbe mumbled as Draco gave the password.

"A Remembrall, go figure," Draco muttered under his breath as he strode towards their dormitory. "No worries," he continued loud enough for his followers to hear him. "You couldn't have expected the Professors to get involved so quickly," he continued as he strode over to his things, grabbing his books for the day as a new plan formulated in his mind. "However," he began, turning around to look at his two lackeys. "If ever you have the chance, I want that Remembrall, got it? Do whatever it takes to get it," he finished with a glare.

"Yeah, get the Remembrall," Goyle nodded dimly.

"By the end of the day," Draco clarified, sure that if he didn't say anything now, he'd end up waiting weeks.

"Yeah, yeah, we got it," Crabbe answered.

"Even if you have to rip it out of Longbottom's hands, I want _that_ Remembrall," he continued, not convinced that they would remember his orders. They were dim and dull. A good source of brute force, but that was unfortunately about all they were good for.

"Sure, we got it. No worries, Draco. You can trust us," Crabbe continued with a firm nod.

Turning to leave, Draco hid a frown. 'That's precisely what I'm worried about,' he thought as his goons followed him, not bothering to grab writing materials. He couldn't trust them. In fact, he was sure he'd have to remind the idiots constantly throughout the day so that they'd remember his orders. They were idiots, but he couldn't stop now. _This_ was the best plan. Crabbe and Goyle _were_ going to make him look like a hero. 'I'll be friends with the Potter Twins no matter what,' Draco finished darkly, glaring hard at the students in his way as he headed to class.

* * *

The wind whipped short blond strands about as he strode forward, following the familiar cobble stone path down to the school training grounds. The Hogwarts towers glaring down on them as several of the greenhouses skirting the edges of his line of sight. Draco was _not_ currently having the best day. The short strands of his hair flitted across his face, looser now that the morning's gel, applied to smooth the wild strands out of his face, had dried some. It was an annoyance, but of little consequence considering the general unsuccessful turn of the day.

Stopping abruptly as he reached the flat grassy field, his goons' hulking forms flanking him as he gazed about the area, Draco nodded to his fellow Slytherins. They'd arrived first. While not an openly coordinated activity, it was as it should be. _They_ were Slytherins after all. Arriving even one second after a single Gryffindor would have been beneath them, beneath the poise of their house when compared to the Gryffindor reckless dismissal of the importance of appearances.

Shifting his gaze once more, Draco noted the neatly arranged line of brooms. Two lines of the hideous monstrosities this school had to offer. His fellow housemates had waited to pick a spot, respecting the proper hierarchy as he swept an uninterested gaze at the choices displayed before him.

Nothing was even remotely acceptable, but he ignored that fact, already knowing that nothing they could offer would be as good as his broom at home. While not the newest _Nimbus 2000,_ his own broom was top of the line, not a brush out of place. Instead he headed for the best of the bunch which was thankfully among the line farthest from the castle.

'Good,' he thought, glaring down at the monstrosity at his feet. 'We'll be able to see the Gryffindors just fine from this vantage point,' he continued looking up as his fellow housemates found their own broom flanking him. One of the first pieces of advice his father had generously _bestowed_ upon him had been to never let your enemy at your back. Draco suppressed the shiver of a lesson well learned. _That_ was certainly something he would never forget.

The loud grunting beside him pulled Draco's attention to his less than useful lackeys. Frowning as they settled in beside him, he tried to redirect his anger at anything other than their incompetence. After all, it wasn't _entirely_ their fault they'd failed him so far. Already well into the afternoon, they'd yet to make him the hero he so craved. But they were idiots and they'd only had that one useless study period shared among all the first years to really get at the task he required of them. Really, he should not have been so surprised at their utter lack of results.

Shifting his attention back to the castle across form him, he waited. The first Gryffindors pouring out of the tower in small waves moments later. Draco was not all that surprised to see the Potter Twins and their group of _friends_ among the first to arrive. From what he'd gathered that _mudblood_ was a taskmaster. The sight of her, her pompous know-it-all attitude, made his blood boil. And why not? Who was this _filth_ to walk around _his_ halls as if she _owned_ the place? She was inferior in all the ways that mattered and he would see to it that the Potter Twins ceased their association with her. It might take longer than he wanted, but he would not rest until they were free of her tainted influence.

A calculated gleam filled Draco's steel grey eyes as he watched on. For now, he would have to ignore her presence. He'd seen the twins' reactions to anyone who'd attacked the mudblood and he couldn't afford for them to react the same way to him. No, he needed them to like him before he could pry them from the filth they surrounded themselves with.

His gaze floated over to Longbottom. One small step away from being a squib, he was at least a pureblood. Sure, not of the same reputable standing as his own family, but he was a pureblood and that meant something in the long run. 'At least they don't often hang around that blood traitor, Weasley,' Draco thought as the group found their places across from him.

He grinned impishly to himself as he spotted Longbottom's Rememberall as the round faced boy tucked it hastily within his robes. Longbottom had foolishly brought the trinket out with him for their first flying lesson. The clumsy boy was just asking to lose it. 'Looks like my luck's about to change,' Draco thought as the rest of the Gryffindors raced to the field, Madam Hooch already set up ready to begin the lesson.

* * *

Madam Hooch waited another few completely unnecessary minutes before beginning the lesson with a sharp tongue. "To your brooms, hurry up," she urged, rather unnecessarily as the majority of them were already by the extremely inferior pieces of absolute rubbish. "Stop that!" she snapped at a Gryffindor, half bent over with his hand already on his broom. "Put that back down," she continued, hawk like eyes never leaving the idiot's form. "Now, stand tall, right hands out and above your brooms and call them to you with one simple command, UP!" she finished, the wild stocks of her grey hair standing on end.

Draco rolled his eyes at the instructions, his hand already up and hovering above his broom as he watched the Potter Twins across from him. "Up!" he commanded absentmindedly catching his broom as it flew to his waiting hand, his sole attention on his intended targets. One of the twins' brooms shot immediately to his hands, 'Charlie,' Draco thought with a short nod in his direction. Only the boy-who-lived would be able to accomplish such a feat on his first try.

Beside him, the other Potter's broom didn't so much as budge, mirroring the same nonexistent movement of Longbottom's broom. Draco frowned at the sight. 'Even that filthy mudblood's broom at least wiggled on the bloody ground,' he thought darkly, wondering once more why he needed both Potter's to accomplish his goal and please his father. One was clearly more talented than the other.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he continued to watch as Charlie slowly talked Longbottom into coaxing the broom to his hands. Draco was sure the boy was focusing more on getting the idiot to stop quivering in fear before his broom. 'So much for Gryffindor_ courage_,' Draco thought with a roll of his eyes as Longbottom and the mudblood finally got their brooms to their hands.

'Strange,' Draco thought as he watched the other Potter twin continue to struggle with the task. 'I hadn't thought he was so incompetent.' Gaze tracking the events before him, he followed the sure movement of Charlie's gaze, watching as he stared at his brother, a frown to his face, before turning back to Madam Hooch.

"Excuse me, Madam Hooch, but was that the right hand or the dominate hand?"

"Dominate hand of course," she replied offhandedly before returning her focus to helping one of the Gryffindor girls, Draco thought it was the one with the twin, but he didn't care enough to verify it.

Lazily shifting his gaze back to the Potter twins and their '_friends'_ Draco was stunned to see Harry moving about his broom, switching side so that his left hand hovered over the twig before trying again. This time the piece of school rubbish flew to his hands in a rush that had Draco's brow furrowing. 'So he's left handed,' Draco thought, cataloging the information away for future use. 'That information should definitely interest father,' he continued. 'Or maybe not,' he amended, a frown working its way onto his features as he realized it was information on the wrong twin. Useful it may be, but his father certainly wouldn't want to hear anything about it.

A few moments later, each first year had a broom in their hands. Madam Hooch nodded to herself before grabbing their attention, her voice booming across the small area. "Alright now that you've got your brooms in hand it's time that we move on. First…" Promptly ignoring the rest of her statement, Draco mounted his pathetic excuse for a broom. He already knew how to hold and mount a broom. He'd been doing it for years, perfectly.

Lost in his own world, Draco waited impatiently as Madam Hooch made her way down the line, checking each first year as she went, nodding in approval or moving to correct a mistake made. Impatiently he waited for her to get to him, more than ready for the nod as she moved on to the rest of his housemates. Eyes drawn across the field, Madam Hooch's voice startled him as she moved to correct his position. "You've almost got it Mister Malfoy, just slide back a bit, loosen you grip here and tighten you stance a little."

Draco felt his ears burn in embarrassment at her words. He'd been doing this for years. He didn't need correction. Holding his tongue, he glared at Weasley as he chuckled at her words. The heat on the back of his neck rising as he quickly corrected his hold, hoping beyond hope that she would just move on quickly. He didn't need this incident to draw too much negative focus from his own housemates. He needed their respect, unwavering, and not just because of his family name. He had to be the best.

Finally, Madam Hooch moved on, fixing both Crabbe and Goyle's stances before sliding further down the line. "Alright, it looks like you've all got the basics. Now ready yourselves. We're taking to the air." She paused to grasp the whistle hanging from her neck, "Now, when I blow my whistle, you will kick off from the ground, hard," she instructed, eyes trailing up and down their lines to make sure they understood. Draco rolled his eyes, his earlier embarrassment almost forgotten. This really wasn't all that difficult. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three, two…" but she never got to finish as that idiot Longbottom shot up into the air.

"Come down, Mister Longbottom!" she shouted up at him, her gaze tracking his form as he flew higher and higher into the air.

"I can't!" Longbottom's pathetic cry rang out across the courtyard as his broom continued upwards.

"Neville focus, you've got this?" Charlie stressed, calling up to the boy in an attempt to calm him down. It was useless. Longbottom was an idiot not fit to wield a wand. The chances that he'd regain control of that stick parading as a broom were slim to none.

Draco shifted his gaze back down, watching as the Potter twins and that filthy mudblood seemed to realize what Draco had already known as they raced to pull out their wands. There was only one way Longbottom was coming down and it wasn't on that broom.

A brow in curious contemplation as he noted the trio's wands, out and ready as if they could do something to stop Longbottom's fated descent when Madam Hooch hadn't bothered to do the same. Perhaps the old woman just didn't realize how much of a buffoon the pureblood was. Perhaps she didn't realize like the majority of them standing around that Longbottom was seconds away from tumbling down to a rather nasty fall. Either way, it didn't particularly matter. If, no _when_ Longbottom fell he'd be taking away Draco's chance at heroism. And _that_ was unacceptable.

'Of course this would happen,' Draco thought dryly, his uninterested gaze tracing the form of the rapidly ascending pureblood. 'Longbottom's got just enough magic in his pathetic, trembling form to make all purebloods look bad. It must be that's buffoon's life mission to make us look completely incompetent,' he continued bitterly, angry that the boy couldn't control his broom long enough for Draco to look the hero. It was an inconvenient setback that Draco would not soon forget.

Soon enough, Longbottom's hold eventually gave way and Draco watched dispassionately as the boy tumbled to the ground.

"Neville!" the mudblood's screech of a voice cry out, drawing a frown to Draco's features as he watched.

"_Spongify_!" Two like spells flew through the air, the bright flash of light hitting the ground just before Longbottom's body collided with it. The pathetic boy's body bounced once, the soft thud filling the air as he eventually rolled to a stop.

A frown flashed across his face before he schooled his features back to neutrality. He hadn't expected Harry and that mudblood to know that spell or any spell really as they'd _just_ begun the term. From anyone else, he _might _have been impressed, but not from them.

A loud groan filled the air, drawing his attention away from the pair back to Longbottom's still prone form. Apparently the idiot boy had still managed to damage himself despite the assistance from his _friends_. Draco couldn't say that he was all that surprised. If Longbottom was as clumsy as he seemed, then the hospital wing would probably be his second home.

In the next moment Madam Hooch was by his side, checking on the boy as his broom continued onward for several more meters before falling down as well. "Quick thinking Mister Potter, Miss Granger. Looks to be nothing more than a sprained wrist. Five points each for Gryffindor," Madam Hooch awarded, ignoring the loud crash of the broom beside her as she pulled Longbottom to his feet.

His house groaned at the awarded points, but Draco had expected nothing less. Professors needed little reason to give points to Gryffindor. Their favoritism was certainly nothing new. His father and godfather had discussed enough for Draco to understand that particular point. In the end, it wasn't particularly important. A trivial matter really, especially when compared to the object currently in his sights.

Draco tuned out the rest of Madam Hooch's lecture, something about staying out of the air until she returned, as his gaze settled on the clear orb resting a short distance from Longbottom's feet, his Remembrall laying alone on the grass beside him.

A sly smirk crossed his lips as he shifted his gaze, glancing quickly in the Potter Twins' direction to see if they'd caught sight of it too. His smirk grew as he noticed their preoccupation as they were far too concerned with Longbottom's health to notice the thing practically at their feet. 'Good,' Draco thought, smoothing his features as he waited for Madam Hooch to turn her back. Shifting his spot, he shoved his elbow into his lackeys' side, hitting them as hard as he dared to gain their attention.

Light chatter broke out as the group of first years was finally left alone and his goons turned to him.

"Whatcha you need, Draco?" Crabbe questioned, rubbing a meaty hand to his side.

Draco turned his head as he looked directly at the Remembrall. "Forgetting something?" he questioned, never taking his gaze from the small crystal orb. He caught their confused looks out the corner of his eyes, suppressing at sigh at the sight before clarifying sharply, "The ground, you idiots."

Finally their dim-witted gazes followed his own, spotting the Remembrall on the ground across from them. "Oh yeah."

Rolling his eyes at their stupidity, he watched as they stepped forward, Goyle quickly picking the Remembrall up, palming it in his hand as he turned to look at his cohort. "Look what I have. Catch Vince," he called before tossing it to Crabbe with a cocky grin.

Draco gave it a few seconds before stepping forward. He wanted everyone's attention on his two goons playing around with the Remembrall before he moved to intervene. He had to make the most of the situation after all.

Reviewing his speech and actions for a second longer, Draco finally moved; ready to save the day with a few choice words.

"Give it here Crabbe, Goyle." Except he never got to as Charlie stepped forward, the aggressive tint to his voice filling the air before Draco could even open his mouth. Worried, but undeterred, he took another quick step forward, cursing the two idiots for going so far away from his position. He could still salvage the situation, if only he could do it _now _before his lackeys decided to do something really stupid.

"Oh, you want this?" Crabbe replied, holding the trinket up in the air taunting the Potter Twins before glancing off to the side, exchanging a look that Draco dreaded to his very core with Goyle. 'No!' Draco commanded in his head, nearly fuming as he glared death at his henchmen. '_Don't_ do anything stupid,' he continued silently, taking another step toward them as quickly as he dared. He could already tell he wasn't going to make it in time. Curse them for not coming back to him. In the next moment the two took to the air. "You'll have to come get it," Crabbe taunted from the air.

Draco sighed in frustration as his two lackeys hovered above them, Crabbe tossing the trinket to Goyle midair as they continued to taunt the Potter Twins. "That is, if you're not scared," Goyle added, a chuckle to his voice as he laughed at his own pathetic joke.

'The fools!' he thought angrily, thinking as quickly as he could to find some way to defuse the situation before it went too far. He'd _specifically_ told them to givethe Remembrall to _him_. Not any of this nonsense.

Clutching his hand tightly, he was reminded that he'd dropped that ridiculous excuse for a broom when Longbottom had lost control. Not that having the object would have mattered because the Potter Twins were already exchanging looks and flying into the air before he could even think to turn back and grab the broom.

Too late. He was too late to stop this train wreck of a plan and now it had already gotten out of hand. He should have _never_ trusted those idiots, not with a task this sensitive. Not when they could _barely_ follow the simplest of directions to begin with. So Draco stood back and tried to come up with something that didn't end with him looking the fool as well. He had an image to maintain after all. He couldn't just go up there without a plan.

Draco frowned at the hesitation on his goons faces as the Potter Twins flanked them. They were too high up for him to make out any words, but the confused looks on his lackeys faces were enough information on its own. They might have been easily confused, but Gryffindors rarely brought that confusion out of them. They looked to him for direction, but Draco glared back, his face hard and unmoving, unwilling to help them now. He'd told them to give it to _him_, not play about like fools. He certainly hadn't told them to go flying off with it.

Draco watched as Crabbe and Goyle tried to play off whatever had spooked them, but to Draco's well trained eyes he could tell that something was definitely still off. He couldn't make out the look on either of the Potter Twins face, but his goons' gazes were as clear as day. They weren't just spooked and confused, they were scared. 'Of what?' Draco thought, his brow furrowing in the process.

Out of what looked like pure desperation, Goyle threw the Remembrall as hard as he could. Draco lost the path of the crystal orb as it flew through the air, but clearly the Potter Twins had not. In a blur of motion, they took off after it while Crabbe and Goyle made their way slowly back to the ground.

Draco ignored his lackeys as they found places beside him. Instead, tracking the path as one of the Potter Twins, he'd lost track of which one when they'd flown after the trinket, took the lead and dove for the small ball. Draco forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the train wreck, a sure trip to the hospital wing, as the Potter Twin finally caught the Remembrall. However, the boy was far too close to the ground, his broom still pointed towards the ground as he continued on his deadly descent. Clearly, his trip to the hospital wing would be a serious one as there was _no way_ a first year, let alone a first time broom rider, would be able to turn away in time.

The twin pulled hard on his broom, twisting it hard as he slug the Remembrall behind him. Speeding into the turn, the twin rolled off the broom just as the twin still in the air caught the practically invisible orb on his descent to the ground. Touching the soft grass of the courtyard, the twin tucked the Remembrall into his robes as he made his way towards his brother who was amazingly rolling to his feet. Somehow completely unharmed.

"Wicked!" Someone said excitedly from behind Draco. Absentmindedly Draco agreed, his attention on the near impossible feat accomplished by the Potter Twins. Clearly, they were both rather talented.

"Misters Potter!" Startled by the sound, Draco shifted his attention, spotting Professor McGonagall as she stormed to their group. "Follow me at once!"

Draco watched in a disbelieving stupor as the Potter Twins were whisked away. Not a minute later, Madam Hooch was back and they were continuing they lesson, Draco grinding his teeth as he followed the simple instructions, his thoughts elsewhere. He was going to have a _long_ talk with Crabbe and Goyle.

His knuckles whitened as he griped his broom tighter. His father was going to _kill_ him. Now that the Potter Twins were expelled, his father was going to _murder_ him. Forget the humiliation of him visiting Hogwarts. He wasn't going to live to see another year. Heir be damned.

Draco's eyes found his two henchmen in the air beside him. If he somehow survived this complete disaster, he was never going to trust those fools with anything again. _This_ was the trouble with trying to befriend bloody _Gryffindors_. They couldn't just leave well enough alone. No they had to go and get themselves _expelled_. Bloody Gryffindor courage be damned!

* * *

**AN:** So that's the chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Not the easiest to write, but not the hardest.

Sorry about the wait. I got the flu a couple of weeks ago. I was only able to take off a day and a half from work (my experiments are time sensitive and just didn't care about my health in general). To make matter worse, my postdoc had her baby (yeah, great new and all little girl named Shade) three weeks early. Which meant, she didn't have time to properly transition her stuff over to different people. (We had plans and everything that when from we to me...). Long story short, this is about a week late.

KJ


	13. Chapter Eleven

_Chapter Eleven: Gryffindor – The house of the brave_

Ron reached over the table to grab another spoonful of eggs, nodding absentmindedly as Dean said something else about legball or whatever that muggle sport he liked so much was called. Sliding another couple of bangers onto his plate, a handful of rashers, two more spoonful's of the hash and an apple (of which he only planned to eat half of at the most so he wouldn't be lying if his mum decided to ask him if he'd eaten something health today), Ron finished loading his third plate.

It was only the second week of classes, but so far he was enjoying himself. They'd had their first flying lesson the other day, ruined of course by the Slytherins, but he was sure by the end of the year he'd have shown enough skill to warrant at least consideration for the House Quidditch team, even if the current keeper wasn't due to graduate for another two years. He had to start somewhere after all.

Shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth, he nodded briefly to Dean's statement before it fully registered. "No, no, we don't have anything like that in Quidditch," he corrected, swallowing quickly before picking up a rasher to nibble on. He'd need his mouth mostly free for this conversation.

"So you're telling me there _aren't_ any penalty kicks."

"Shots, penalty shots, but no I'm not saying that," he defended, grabbing another rasher as he finished the one in his hand. "I'm saying there aren't any _boundaries_ like in your muggle game. We don't have special spots to put the quaffle back in play so all penalties are basically the same."

"Can't be much of a game if you don't have good penalties and play stoppage. Where are the throw-in's? The goal kicks? Corner kicks? Direct kicks? Indirect kicks? Plays like that can make or break the game. It's what _makes_ the game," Dean shot back, arms in the air as he complained.

Ron ignored him as he shoved a forkful of eggs and hash into his mouth. He couldn't just _explain_ Quidditch. It was a sport meant to be played or at least _watched_. Dean would just have to wait for the first Gryffindor match to fully understand why he was wrong about his muggle sport being better.

Halfway through his plate, his eggs and rashers completely gone, the post arrived. Swooping down around the Great Hall as letters, packages and newspapers were dropped off to various students. Most of the owls had come and gone by the time his family's ancient grey feathered owl fluttered in, landing in a heap of exhausted feathers as he dropped a letter before him.

Ron tried not to color at the pathetic sight, mildly ashamed that his parents couldn't afford a new family owl that didn't look like it was about to keel over and die. He plucked a rasher off the serving dish in front of him, tossing it to Errol as the pathetic thing's chest rapidly rose and fell, desperately attempting to regain his breath, before grabbing the letter. Pulling it open immediately so he could see who it was from, probably his mum but maybe Bill or Charlie had torn themselves away from work long enough to write him.

Letter open, he skimmed the familiar handwriting quickly, sighing as he realized it was just Ginny.

"Who's it from?" Seamus asked, a cup of pumpkin juice in his hands.

"Home," Ron murmured, his cheeks turning red at how uncool it was for his kid sister to be sending him post. At least this way, they'd think it was just his mum, embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing as it could be.

A light commotion further down the Gryffindor table pulled his attention away from the letter in his hands. Shoving the parchment back into its envelope, he glanced down the table in an attempt to catch a glimpse.

"Looks like the Potter Twins got a parcel," Dean commented, turning back to the last remnants of his breakfast almost immediately. Ron nodded but kept his eyes on the twins. That parcel looked an awful lot like a broomstick, but that couldn't be. First years weren't allowed their own broomsticks.

Shrugging, Ron turned back to his food, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth just as Seamus shoved a thumb back towards the twins.

"Don't look now, but that Malfoy fellow is on his way over to our table," he stated, drawing Ron's attention away from his food once more. Ron tracked the slimy git as he slithered up to the Potter Twins.

'Now, what could he possibly want with them,' he thought suspiciously. He didn't like Malfoy. Didn't know what game he was playing trying to be _nice_ to at least _some_ of the Gryffindors. Frankly, he didn't trust the bloke. 'I better find the twins later, talk some sense into them about Malfoy and the rest of those good for nothing Slytherins.' Nodding at his plan, he turn back to his food once more. Eyeing the apple suspiciously before deciding that he'd only really need to take one bite for his words about healthy eating to be true. Maybe he'd only take a _small_ bite.

* * *

Ron trudged upstairs, his long legs carrying him quickly enough that he didn't have to rush any faster than he already was. Really, he should just bring his books down to breakfast. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about coming back to Gryffindor Tower and possibly being late for class. He was sure if he was late to Professor McGonagall's class one more time, he'd end up with more than missing house points. He wouldn't put it past his Head of House to give him a _detention_ for the small infraction.

But really, it wasn't _his _fault. Not really. How was he supposed to know that the staircases liked to move about? And really, she should give them an extra few minutes on days like this. They did just have Astronomy at _midnight_. How was anyone expected to make it to class on time when they've had to be up that late at night the day before? Honestly, she was just being _unreasonable_. Okay, well, maybe last Tuesday was his fault, but all the other times were real reasons to be late for class.

Sliding up to the Fat Lady, he grumbled the password before quickly stepping over the open portal, consciously lifting his legs so he didn't end up on the floor looking a clumsy fool like Neville. "Speak of the devil," Ron mumbled under his breath as he spotted the round faced boy standing in between the Potter Twins and Hermione at the bottom of the dormitory staircase. They were already lost in their own little world. 'Probably talking about schedules and studying and whatnot,' he thought with a roll of his eyes as he crossed the distance.

"…You could have gotten _expelled_," Hermione huffed, glaring at one of the Potter Twins, probably Charlie which really wouldn't have been much of a surprise. Sometimes he couldn't tell who she hated more. Him or Charlie.

'Probably me,' he thought as his legs carried him closer to the group.

"Or worse, _hurt_," she continued, Neville nodding in agreement beside her.

"Hermione's right. While it was nice of you guys to stick up for me, it was just a trinket. It's easily replaced. I'm sure Gran would send me another if I asked, but I can't replace _you_."

Ron rolled his eyes at all the sap spewing forth from the two, the sheepish looks covering the twins' faces because of it. He was sure they were talking about their flying lesson the other day and he really couldn't see what the fuss was all about. They hadn't gotten into any trouble that he could see, so what was the harm.

"Come on now, we don't want to be late for class," Hermione stated, ushering the group past him and out of the common room.

"Figures," Ron whispered under his breath as he bound up the staircase. Hermione could be a real piece of work sometimes, always nagging about one thing or another. The know-it-all never seemed to shut up.

'She _would_ be the one to get upset about a couple of broken rules,' he thought as he pulled the first year dormitory door open, hurrying to his side of the room to grab his things. 'It's not like anything bad happened, certainly nothing to get all worked up about,' he continued, grabbing his books and spinning on his heels.

The Potter Twins were two pretty nice blokes. Most of the time he didn't know _how _they could stand her. 'Oh, well,' he thought with a shrug. 'Not my problem,' he finished as he sped through the common room. He had a class to get too, hopefully the staircase would behave for once.

* * *

Ron scowled into the orange color of the liquid bubbling inside his cauldron, he was sure it was _supposed_ to be yellow. Glancing over at Dean's concoction beside him, he nodded to himself. 'Yep, that's supposed to be yellow,' he thought sourly. Potions wasn't exactly his strong suit, but at least it wasn't red.

He glanced around the room, easily spotting the mess that was Neville's potion. He was frantically stirring at his potion, the deep blood red hue nowhere near the bright yellow bottled potion of the Potter Twin that was currently sharing his space. Ron could see from here the soft measured look on the Potter Twin's face, his head bent down as his voice filtered through the air. It wasn't loud enough for Ron to hear, but he could get the gist as the twin attempted to calm his friend down from his current heights of hysteria.

Ron wasn't sure which one it was, by no fault of his own really, but given that Hermione wasn't glaring hotly at the twin sharing _her_ station, he assumed it was Charlie trying to help the round faced boy. A shame really because Ron had gotten the feeling that Harry was better at Potions. Of course at this rate Ron was sure only the slimy Professor Snape himself could have salvaged whatever that was nearly boiling over in Neville's cauldron. Clearly, he was going to need a heck of a lot more help than whatever Charlie could offer to come out of this class without a Troll.

Speaking of Trolls, Ron sighed as he turned back to his own potion. No matter how he looked at it, he hadn't the foggiest clue of how to fix it. Giving up, he bottled the orange liquid. He wasn't sure _what_ it would do, but he was pretty confident that it wouldn't give him a Troll. Sure, it wasn't going to land him an 'O' or an 'E', but he didn't really mind. All he needed was an 'A' to keep his mum off his back. That was, after all, all the twins normally brought home. And no one expected him to be like Percy.

Done for the day, Ron plopped back down into his seat, eyeing Dean as he too finished up. While not the bright yellow of Charlie's potion, it was at least still _yellow_. "Man, you've got to tell me how you do that," Ron commented, shifting his gaze around the room.

"Yeah, sure, but that would mean doing like some kind of study session," Dean replied his focus complete on his work as he carefully bottle up his potion.

"Study session? You know what, forget I asked," Ron dismissed the idea immediately. There was no _way_ he was going to study more than he had to. Who did he look like, _Hermione_?

"Noted," Dean replied as he sat down beside him, fiddling with his notes as he waited for Snape to dismiss them.

Ron's gaze landed on poor Seamus, the odd man out of the Gryffindor first years forced to partner up with a _Slytherin_. It was a good thing he wasn't a muggleborn otherwise he wasn't sure how the other boy would fare. The sight of the Slytherin sparked a memory from the other day. 'Oi, I almost forgot about Malfoy,' Ron thought as he shifted his gaze to the blond haired git. 'Better catch up with the twins after this and give them a heads up,' he continued with a nod, resting his head onto the surface of his station to wait out the rest of class.

In no time, the crocked nosed Professor stood up in front of the class, a sneer to his lips as he spoke, "If you have not completed this simple assignment by now, then you have no hope of ever achieving it. Bottle your potions and place them on my desk. Class dismissed."

Ron clambered to his feet, grabbing his potion tightly within his fist so that he wasn't in any risk of a Slytherin knocking it from his grip. Setting the potion on Snape's desk, he glanced over at Neville's final concoction, noting that he'd managed to get the hue down from the deep red it had been to a burnt orange. Still darker than his own, but probably not too dark to get a Troll like he'd originally thought.

Shrugging, Ron shuffled out of the dungeon classroom, nodding Dean and Seamus ahead as he waited for the quartet of Gryffindors to exit the classroom. Ron sighed when it took longer than he'd anticipated, Hermione and Neville eventually filling out of the classroom while the twins held back. Ron rolled his eyes at the glare Hermione shot him, ignoring her in favor of waiting for the twins. He couldn't fathom why, but it seemed the twins actually _liked_ Snape, willingly staying back to talk to him briefly about only Merlin knew what.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the twins exited the classroom, heads bent together as they passed him. Undeterred, Ron moved to catch up. He was a Gryffindor, a member of the house of the brave, and Malfoy was a serious problem. He couldn't let them get sucked into whatever devious plans the slimy git had. Not on _his_ watch.

"Hey, Charlie, Harry, wait up," he called after them, comfortable enough with using their names because they were both there.

"Oh, hi Ron," the twin on the right greeted him as they moved to stop, waiting for him to catch up.

"What can we do for you?" the one on the left asked, glancing at him briefly before starting back forward, turning down the corridor that headed away from the dungeon.

"Well, class just reminded me of something I saw yesterday." He paused a moment, trying to think of the best way to put it before just charging right through, "You know, Slytherins, Malfoy actually. I saw him talking to you the other day." He tried to keep his voice even as he continued to walk down the corridor with them. He didn't want to sound accusatory. They didn't know any better. That's why he was here now.

"Yeah, he just came over to apologize for Wednesday."

"You know, the whole Slytherin mess."

"It was actually kind of nice of him to apologize on behave of the whole Slytherin house."

"Especially because he wasn't really involved."

Ron nodded skeptically, his head bouncing back and forth between the two as he walked in between them. He still didn't trust the git. It didn't matter how much he '_apologized'_. "So, was that _all_ he wanted?"

"Nope." Ron nodded again as the twin on his left spoke. He'd obviously been right. Malfoy was up to something.

"He wanted to see if we were free for tea," the twin to his right clarified. Ron frowned as he thought of what Malfoy could possibly want. He highly doubted he'd want to spend a whole afternoon with Neville _and _Hermione, especially Hermione. And practically everyone knew the twins were a package deal with those two.

"We weren't yesterday, or today really, but we've got some time without Neville and Hermione to squeeze him in for a few hours."

'Ah, so that's the game he's trying to play. Get the twins alone to try to brainwash them or something. Sounds real sinister,' he thought, nodding sagely before voicing his concerns. "Look, I know you guys are alright blokes, but I'd stay away from the likes of him."

"Excuse me?" The left twin seemed almost appalled by his words.

"What do you mean the '_likes_ of him'? He seems just fine to us."

"A little stuck up, but not an all-around bad bloke," the left one tagged on to his brother's words.

Ron frowned at that, clearly he'd gotten to them just in time to set them straight. "Yes, well, he _seems_ that way, but looks can be deceiving. Blokes like him aren't one of the good guys. He's in _Slytherin_ for a _reason, _you know. I'm sure he's scheming something," he explained confident that his words would be more than enough to convince the twins to stay away.

"Look Ron, we know _you_ have a problem with Slytherins, but just because someone's from that house doesn't make them bad," the twin on the left replied, a dismissive hand waved in the air as he spoke.

'Okay, that won't do. Maybe I should be clearer,' he thought before responding back. "Of course it does, it's _Slytherin_," he shot back, his words causing the twins to pause beside him, both turning in to face him as they stood at the bottom of the staircase leading back up to the main floor. "_Every_ dark witch or wizard came from that house! Even You-Know-Who! The lot of them are bad news, and blokes like you shouldn't be messing around with them."

"Oh, so if we'd been placed in Slytherin then we'd automatically be up to no good? _Evil _even?"

"Yes, I mean no," Ron shook his head at the twin on his left's words. "Look that's not the _point_. The _point_ is I've been a part of the wizarding world longer than you two. I _know_ blokes like Malfoy. He's just like his father, and he _was_ a Death Eater! So, when I tell you Malfoy's up to no good, I know what I'm saying."

Obviously he'd said the wrong thing by the rather dark look the twin on his left was giving him.

"If his dad was who you say he was, then he'd be in Azkaban."

"He used his money to get out of it!" Ron interrupted before the twins could argue further. "He's not the only one either. Too many of the Slytherins in just our year have Death Eater parents! They're _bad_ news!"

"It's _tea_, Ron. We're not planning to study dark magic." The twin to his right sounded exasperated, but his words worried Ron more than he liked to admit. This conversation was _not_ going the way he'd planned.

"It's _not_ just tea!" he shot back. He didn't know what else he had to say before they finally realized what he knew all along. Malfoy was a _bad_ guy. It was literally the whole reason he'd been placed into Slytherin.

"Look Ron you're obviously disturbed. It _is _just tea. A friendly tea between acquaintances."

"_We_ have no reason not to trust Malfoy. He's been nothing but nice to us since we met him."

"Well that's an act!" Ron interjected, desperate to make them see the truth.

"Are you calling us fools? Saying we can't choose our own friends?" The twin on his right replied in a low tone. A clear warning, but Ron wasn't sure how he could make them understand. He was only trying to help.

"No, I'm not saying any of that. I'm just saying you shouldn't make friends with _Malfoy_!" Ron practically screamed, his chest huffing as his anger grew. 'This shouldn't be so bloody _hard_ to understand,' he thought with frustration.

"Alright, I've heard enough." The twin on his left replied stiffly, stopping Ron from saying anything further. "I _almost_ like you, Ron. You're interesting, but we're not going to let _you_ dictate who we can and cannot be friends with. If we did that I'm sure you'd keep us from _Hermione _and we all know _she's_ harmless."

"_Bossy_, but harmless."

Ron's cheeks colored as the twins continued. Guilty because it was a little true. "This is different." Ron spoke weakly.

"We thought you were better than this. Judging someone without evening knowing them," the twin on his right admonished, clear disappointment in his voice.

"Look I am. I just want to protect you guys!" Ron defended, trying his hardest to make them understand.

"Yeah, well, we don't _need_ your protection."

"Good day, Ron."

And with that the Potter Twins walked away, not bothering to look back at him as they climbed the stairs. 'Geez,' he thought with a frustrated sigh. 'I think I really stepped in it this time,' he continued before trudging up behind them. He'd have to find another way to get them to see the truth about Malfoy, but first he'd let them cool off.

* * *

Ron shook himself, shaking off the cold of the quickly cooling October air as he stood in the great entryway. Looking down, he nearly crashed into a small body as it rushed passed him.

"What the?" he questioned as he looked up. "Oh, it's _you_," he commented seeing Hermione, the Potter Twins and Neville pulling up behind her. "Off to your nerdy study group again," Ron teased, directing his statement towards just the bushy haired know-it-all. It was the only logical reason why they'd be heading out without that weird legball on a Friday. Probably off to do revisions for herbology. "Your herbology marks that low?"

"Mine no, but the same can't be said about _yours_," Hermione shot back. Ron bristled, coloring at her comment. He'd gotten _one_ Troll in herbology, just once, but he doubted she'd ever let it go. It hadn't even been his fault. Dean had accidently knocked over his pot while throwing something at Seamus and the resulting mess had ended up breaking some of the greenhouse's glass panels before practically melting through his work station. Totally unpreventable.

"Anyway, we're actually going to visit with Hagrid," Hermione continued, pushing him aside as she reached for the door. "But if you _really_ want to join our study group, Ron. You know all you need to do is ask," she finished with a grin before opening the door, the twins and Neville following her out with soft chuckles on their breath.

"As if _that_ will ever happen!" Ron shouted back before turning back around and heading upstairs like he'd originally planned. There was no way he'd be caught studying during _his _free time. Not when he didn't have to. And he didn't because he was doing just fine in his classes.

Climbing the long winding staircase, Ron sighed as he thought over the last month. While he'd been unable to convince the Potter Twins to stop hanging out with Malfoy (he was sure their weekly hour long tea sessions were done solely to spite him), he'd at least managed to make it back on their good side. Well, mostly.

Of course it hadn't been all that difficult all things considering. At least for Charlie. Harry was always a tough one to peg. Good for a few games of chess, but quiet most of the time if he wasn't with Hermione. For whatever reason, when those two got together, they never seemed to shut up.

And it wouldn't be all bad if they were at least talking about something _interesting_, but all Ron ever heard from them was school work this, muggle stuff that, and the newest subject they'd started reading because _of course_ their favorite hangout was the school library. They were two _nerdy_ peas in a pod. And they weren't all that shy about letting everyone know.

'Yeah, once is all you need with Harry,' Ron thought as he turned a corner, hopping up the staircase that would get him back to the Gryffindor common room the fastest. He'd only had to make the mistake of asking Harry to clarify one of the muggle terms he'd used once. The lecture that had ensued had felt like hours even though it had probably only been ten or so minutes. What was he ever going to need '_chemistry_' for? Muggle '_science_' certainly wasn't a topic he was all that interested in.

Of course, Ron was sure that listening to Harry go on and on about the topic had made it easier for him to forgive him somewhat for whatever slight he'd managed to incur when he'd tried to _helpfully_ steer them away from Malfoy's wicked clutches (what they spent an hour a week discussing _he_ certainly didn't know, but whatever). Ron just kind of wished Harry was as easy to win over as his brother. And as Ron was currently the leading expert of all things Quidditch at least amongst the Gryffindor first years, it had been _really_ easy to win the boy back over.

Now _Charlie_ was a bloke he could relate to. He knew more about Quidditch then any of the other first years and most of the second and third years if Ron was being completely honest. And the best part was Charlie had the greatest appreciation for the sport too. From what Ron could gather, he'd probably make a pretty good chaser, but Ron thought Charlie was enthusiastic enough to be pretty decent in most of the other positions too. He wasn't really built like a beater, but he'd been around when someone had bet the boy that he couldn't smash a pumpkin with his tiny arms. And Charlie had bashed it in with ease. Going so far as the punch as second one in with his bare hands. Now if he could only convince him to drop all that nonsense about muggle legball.

Ron wished again that first years were allowed to bring broomsticks to Hogwarts. Then he could round up enough guys to play a small pickup game and really get a gauge on Charlie's skills. It would be fun. But that just wasn't possible. Some rules, after all, just couldn't be broken. But at least it was always fun talking strategy with him. For whatever reason he was particularly interested in seeker strategy, a position that he thought Charlie might be decent at, but wouldn't really fit his style. He was a chaser just like Ginny always professed she could play if they ever let her, which they never did.

So Charlie had been easy to get back on his good side. All he had to do was drop the whole Malfoy thing and focus on Quidditch which had been rather easy for him to do. Okay, so he'd been rather reluctant to drop the Malfoy issue, but Ron had a plan now. Neither of the twins was going to believe Malfoy was the slimy git he truly was until Malfoy dropped the goodie-two-shoe act. So all Ron had to do was wait. Maybe help Malfoy along with a few choice comments. He wouldn't be able to keep up the act forever and when he finally dropped it, Ron would make sure the Potter Twins were there to witness it. It was a good plan, slow, but he had the time.

Rounding the corner, Ron tossed the password at the Fat Lady before stepping through the portal. He had free time he needed to fill. Glancing around, he spotted Dean and Seamus over by the fireplace, talking amongst each other as they sat. Maybe he could get one of them to play a match of chess. Sure they weren't as good as Harry, who seemed to get better with every match, but they would do in a pinch. That was if they agreed to it.

Shrugging, Ron headed over to them. Even if they didn't want to play chess (most people avoided the game with him altogether), they could always grab a deck of cards and play exploding snaps. He was sure at least _one_ of the first year girls wouldn't mind playing with them. Making it into a _real_ game.

Sitting down beside his friends, Ron nodded internally at his decision. If one of the Potter Twins made it back soon, he'd even invite them to the game. That was if Hermione didn't whisk them away for a study session like last Friday. 'Or if they don't disappear,' he added as an afterthought, remembering how the twins had formed the habit of disappearing in the evening for Merlin only knew what. He'd assume it was studying, but that didn't make a lot of sense because Hermione normally stayed behind. Oh well, it didn't really matter all that much to him. After all, he had better things to worry about then what a bunch of nerds got up to.

* * *

Ron woke up with a groan, batting the hand away from his face as he turned back over in bed. "Not now," he grumbled, head half buried into his pillow. He was too tired to get up now.

"_You're going to be late_." The words floated around his head as he snuggled deeper into his crimson covers, the soft warmth more inviting than anything else. His consciousness fled him moments later as he drifted back to dreamland.

The next time Ron cracked his eyes open, he was treated to the sight of a _very_ empty room. "Merlin, what _time_ is it?" he groaned, stretching his long body out across his bed in the process. Cocking his head to the side, he spotted the clock on the wall, mentally acknowledging the time with a small nod before snuggling back into his covers. Eyes closed and on his way back to sleep, the time finally fully registered with his still slow sleep hazed mind.

"Bloody hell!" he cursed, practically jumping from his bed. Stumbling to his feet, tripping over several random items haphazardly thrown about the floor, Ron raced to his closet, yanking a robe down and throwing it on over his pajamas in one quick motion. "Shite, Professor McGonagall's going to tan my hide," he grumbled under his breath, pulling off his pajama bottoms in one sharp tug while simultaneously attempting to shove one leg into his trousers. Halfway up his leg he realize he'd managed to put them on backwards, but he had all of five minutes to race through _all_ of Hogwarts to get to class. He didn't have time to waste on _trousers_.

Hopping on one foot he grabbed his things for class knocking over half the items on his desk in the process. He didn't stop to pick it up, despite the fact that he was sure one of the Potter Twins would give him a hard time about it. Surprisingly enough, he actually thought the one that cared about tidiness was Charlie.

Shrugging the thought aside, Ron raced from the room, one shoe barely on his foot while the other was still clutched within the clutter in his arms. Halfway to class, both shoes now loosely strapped to his feet, Ron remember the devil staircase. Evil incarnate that rarely behaved correctly when he needed to get to class. He sped up his pace. Hopefully, if he was fast enough, he could out run the demonic staircase before it decided to change directions.

Racing down the corridor, paper flying from his hands, lost causes the lot of them, Ron bound up the staircase, using his long legs to his advantage to take the stairs nearly three steps at a time. He was virtually up the devil staircase when it began to shift, shaking slightly as it detached itself from the floor he needed.

Grounding his teeth, jaw tight as he mentally estimated the amount of time that had already passed, Ron realized he couldn't wait for the next shift. He wouldn't have time to find another way around either. No, he had to make it to the landing now, or he'd be so late to class there would be no way he could talk McGonagall out of issuing him a detention.

Not stopping even as the staircase completely separated from the landing, Ron raced forward. Eyeing the distance as it slowly grew, he gulped. Shutting his eyes tight before leaping from the platform, praying to Merlin or God or anyone that could help him make a safe landing.

Time seemed to slow as he sailed through the air, eyes shut tight as he clutched desperately at the books, parchment and other random _things_ in his arms. Ron couldn't breathe. Couldn't think as he waited for the outcome of his desperate jump. Hoping with everything he had that he'd make it to the other side.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, his body hit the stone floor with a hard thump. Papers scattering, he didn't bother to pick most of it up as he raced to his feet, too worried that he was already late despite making the jump safely. Lurching down the corridor, he nearly tripped over his own shoe as it slipped from his foot. He turned to look at it briefly, contemplating turning back for it as he rounded the corner only to remember the stern face Professor McGonagall had given him the last time he was late.

'Nope, not happening,' he thought as he pushed on, speeding down the corridor with just one shoe and half the supplies he'd need for class. 'Nothing's worth the wrath of _that_ particular dragon.'

Rounding one last corner, Ron slid to a halt as he finally entered the classroom, his sock covered foot slipping under him almost bringing him down to the floor.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Weasley," the Professor announced as Ron tried to catch his breath.

"I'm not late!" he yelled, half pointing to the clock that had just ticked past the hour the class was supposed to start.

"As true as that may be Mr. Weasley I still expect to see you after class. You seem drastically underprepared for our lesson today."

Ron huffed in frustration as he sunk into the nearest open seat. Finally, he glanced down at the only book that had made the trip. His potion's textbook. Yeah, he was definitely still getting a detention. 'Merlin, I _hate_ Thursdays,' he thought before shifting the book to the side. Not even Halloween could make up for it. Eyeing his useless book, he sighed heavily.

* * *

Ron stared listlessly ahead of him, a limp corned beef sandwich held tightly within his grasp as he grumbled over his terrible day. He didn't even _like_ corned beef, not that his mum ever seemed to remember. But here he was, unhappily munching away at his sandwich, alone. He felt terrible. Worse than any of the previous Thursdays combined which was saying a lot because Thursdays _never _seemed to go right for him.

Mouth half full with a sandwich he didn't even want, Ron took another large bite out of his soggy meal as he thought about other Halloweens. Ones _so_ much better than this. Filled with laughter and sweets and just plain fun. Mum would spend the whole day baking, cooking up a storm for the dinner feast which always meant she only had time to fix them some sandwiches. And with his luck he _always_ got stuck with the corned beef ones. But that was fine because in the end, it was _always_ worth it.

'Yup, mum always goes all out for Halloween,' he thought with a grin, a sharp pang of homesickness throbbing through his chest. 'Desserts of all kinds. And pumpkin,' he thought, stuffing the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. 'Pumpkin everywhere,' he finished with a sigh because that was his mum and if it had pumpkin in the name then it was guaranteed to make it to the table.

Swallowing the tasteless remains of his sandwich, Ron grabbed for another. Wistfully, he wondered what Halloween would be like _this _year. With only Ginny in the house, would mum go all out like she normally did? 'Probably not,' he thought with a sigh, chewing the soggy bits of his sandwich as he stared into his plate. 'Too much food would go to waste with just Ginny, mum and dad.'

Another sigh escaped him in disappointment. Unsurprisingly, he wished almost desperately that his mum would go all out anyway so that she could send leftovers to him while he was still here at Hogwarts. It was unlikely thought. His second sandwich disappeared into a third and fourth as he contemplated how much fun Ginny would have even without all of the best desserts to gorge herself on.

Dad always got a half day on Halloween. And even though he got called in often, Halloween being one of his busiest days, he brought back the trinkets mostly curse free for the lot of them to play with. Ginny was going to have all that fun, dad's undivided attention, _and_ all the sweets to herself while he was stuck here, just hoping that the Hogwarts feast was _half_ as good as the one he'd have gotten at home. Of course he doubted _that_ too. The house elves were good, but they weren't that good. They just couldn't match his mum's cooking.

And to make it all worse, here he was on his fifth sandwich eating alone. So, he couldn't even complain to any of his mates because they'd finished their lunch nearly an _hour_ before he'd even made it to the Great Hall. And why? Because he might have over slept, and brought the wrong book to class. What did that matter anyway? They sat in groups of two! He could have always read from his partner's book.

Really Professor McGonagall needed to lighten up a bit. Because of her tongue lashing he'd barely had time to pick up his scattered papers, and one shoe, left on the floor of several corridors. He could have been late to herbology! And as if that wasn't enough, he'd had to use all of his free period and _half_ of his lunch fixing his uniform, grabbing his stuff and writing a short essay, the first of unfortunately many, before presenting himself to his Head of House again. Where she could continue his tongue lashing from where she'd left off. And he _still _had detention on Saturday. Really, he just couldn't win.

'Gryffindor, the house of the brave, yeah right,' Ron thought bitterly as he finished his sandwich grabbing a cider apple as he headed to class. 'More like the house of the overworked and the unjustly punished.' At least the apple tasted as good as anything his mum always brought. At _this_ point of year where there were more apples then any one person could really eat, he'd _normally_ be sick of the stuff by now. Of course having to look at all those apples normally paid off in the end. Especially when his mum made the rest into Halloween cider. 'I'm sure she'll make _Ginny_ some cider,' he thought bitterly as he climbed the stairs. Really, his sister didn't know how _lucky_ she had it.

No books to remember to take to class, no scheduled wake up times. Bloody hell, she didn't even have to worry about _going _to class or getting decent marks. She'd get the _best_ foods and some of the _best_ cider and she didn't have to worry about anything else. Especially not about waking up in time for class. Detentions weren't even on her radar. She ought to be happy she's not at Hogwarts yet, instead of sending him all those letters about how she can't wait.

Here he was on Halloween, a detention for this Saturday, more essays about etiquette and responsibility then was reasonable, just _hoping_ that the feast would include his favorite Halloween drink. He wouldn't get his hopes up of course. Not with the way _today_ was going. He just didn't have any confidence for the rest of the day.

'At least I've got my charms' book for after the study period,' he thought as he entered the big hall, plopping down beside his mates.

Leaning back in his seat, Ron tossed the pit of his apple way in the rubbish contain before Madam Hooch entered the room. He didn't want to get back up, but he also didn't want to have to hold on to the core for the whole period. Certainly it was a good thing that he'd gotten here with minutes to spare. He felt like he'd gotten into enough trouble for one day.

Resting his head onto his crossed arms, Ron glanced around at his fellow Gryffindors ignoring the other first years packing into the room with practiced ease. A bit down the table was Neville sitting with one of the twins, the other half of their quartet spaced just a little further down. Rolls of parchment were already spread across the surface, but were currently being ignored. Hermione's head bent together with the other twin a heated flush covering her cheeks as she furiously whispered one thing or the other at her companion. Given the angry twist to her fingers as she practically jabbed the digit into her twin's chest, Ron could only assume that the one sitting next to Neville was Harry.

Just as Madam Hooch rushed through the door, grey hair a wild halo above her head, Ron heard the light laugh of Neville's voice as he grinned at something Harry said. The easy smile the two exchanged made him frown. When he'd gotten to Hogwarts, he'd just assumed it wouldn't be hard to make friends. And he did have friends. He just didn't have a best mate like Neville did. What did Neville have that he didn't anyway?

Neville was clumsy. Had trouble with just about every subject. Barely said anything in general, which meant he couldn't be all that good in conversation. He wasn't even all that good at exploding snaps, let alone chess! 'I'd have made a better study partner than him. If I wanted to study,' Ron thought darkly as Madam Hooch reminded them to actually study. He was sure of it.

* * *

"Alright class, now is time for practical application!" Professor Flitwick announced from atop his pile of books and boxes.

The class broke out in murmured excitement, an excitement that Ron couldn't help but join. _Finally_, they'd get to take out their wands! He'd thought it would never happen.

'Maybe today is looking up,' he thought, not even bothered that he'd been forced to sit next to a Ravenclaw, Dean and Seamus pairing up this time. They weren't that bad anyway.

"Now let's pair up," he announced which was a rather strange statement considering he'd thought that they were _already_ paired up. Quickly moving on, the Professor continued, "No. No. No," he stated, stopping the shuffling of seats before it could really get going. "Let me assign partners. Let's mix it up a little today."

Ron smiled. He'd hadn't wanted to work with the Ravenclaw sitting next to him anyway. Turning, Ron eyed the other boy. He couldn't even remember his name. So this was all good news for him, unlike the majority of everyone else grumbling around the room. After all, he had a pretty good chance of working with his mates, or the Potter Twins, or maybe even _Neville_. And Neville was sure to make him look good.

"And Mr. Weasley, why don't you work with Ms. Granger. You two haven't worked together at all this year."

Ron's smile immediately fell from his face, a protest on the tip of his tongue which never made it out as Professor Flitwick moved on before he could muster a complaint. Ron groaned as he gathered his things, 'Could this day get any worse?' he questioned with a sigh before plopping down into the spot one of the Potter Twins had just vacated, sitting down in a huff.

"Alright Ron, I don't want to be partnered with you either. So, the faster we get the spell right the sooner we can go our separate ways." Ron nodded stiffly pulling his wand out to begin. "So, I suggest we practice the wand movements a couple of times, then practice the pronunciation a couple of times. And then finally put it all together."

Ron snorted, "I don't need all that." Lifting his wand he continued, looking down at the girl next to him in the process, "This is an _easy_ spell," he taunted, waving his wand in the air as he got straight to it. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Nothing happened. "No, Ron. You're saying it wrong."

"I'm saying it just fine!" he snapped, not willing to listen to anything that know-it-all had to say. Turning back to his wand he tried again, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Still nothing. His ears burned, hot with embarrassment as his face flushed. Ignoring the near constant nagging from his _partner _he tried several more times. He was sure he had the wand motions right, so this should _work_.

"It's not Wingardium; it's Wing-GAR-dium," Hermione continued, her irritating voice breaking through his concentration.

"I _know_ what I'm doing. I don't need your help. Besides it not like _you_ can get it either!" he snapped, glaring at her with a burning heat.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, clearly unmoved by his anger as she lifted her own wand. "Wing-GAR-dium levi-O-sa!" Her feather floated up into the air, matching the up and down motion of her wand as she demonstrated her control. And Ron turned purple.

"Oh, you think you're _so _clever, but we all know you only managed to get it because you have no _life_! You probably already know this spell, anyway. You know-it-all _nightmare_ of a _bookworm_!"

There was a slight commotion from behind him, the noise shifting his attention as he turned to see the Potter Twins and Neville looking their way.

Turning back to Hermione, he was surprised to see her roll her eyes at him again, completely unfazed by his statement, "Please Ronald. Don't get upset just because _you_ can't be bothered to get above an _'A'_. If you'd just listened to me in the first place you'd already have it by now."

"Is there a problem here? Ms. Granger. Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick asked, interrupting the next scathing words just itching to leave his mouth.

Changing his mind, Ron cut Hermione off before she could even open her mouth, an excuse to get out of here already on the tip of his tongue, "No Professor. I just need to use the washroom. May I be excused?"

"Of course, Mr. Weasley. Class is nearly over anyway. Why don't you leave early? The homework for day was on the board."

Ron nodded, grateful to be getting out of there as he packed up turning to see everyone else practicing. Hermione had moved over to Neville and the Potter Twins easily dismissing his presence. The last thing Ron saw before he left the classroom was Neville's feather levitating off the desk, floating for a few seconds before coming back down. Even _Neville_ had gotten the spell. 'Merlin, I _hate_ Thursdays.'

* * *

Walking into the Great Hall that evening was like walking into a dream. The bright voices of the school choir rising up around him in haunting tones that matched perfectly with the festive atmosphere. The room smelled like heaven. The aroma of almost every type of dish he could think of plus nearly a dozen more filling the air as he made his way to the Gryffindor table. Already, food was piled high on the table, glistening in serving platters that rivalled anything he'd ever seen.

Really, it was almost perfect. Missing the vibrant hum of his family as they bustled around each other, bumping into each other as they loaded plates high with the food his mum had spent all day making. But he obviously couldn't have that, not while he was still here at Hogwarts.

'But boy does this feast smell _amazing_,' Ron thought as he plopped down right between Dean and Seamus, the space between them obviously left just for him. They greeted him with a smile, bright, excited looks shared between the two as they continued to talk animatedly about the decorations filling the Great Hall like they'd never seen it before, not even for the grand opening ceremony dedicated for the sorting.

Ron smiled as he scanned the table, looking around at his house mates and year mates all excitedly conversing. There was only one thing that could make this feast better. 'Yes!' he thought excitedly as he spied the one thing that he'd always associated with the holiday. 'They've got cider!'

Settling down, relaxing fully in his seat, Ron took in the sheer grandeur that was the Hogwarts' Halloween feast. Carved pumpkins of all sizes filled the space. Gigantic pumpkins that were more art than anything he'd ever put together at home resting on nearly every available surface. There was one, the biggest pumpkin that he'd ever laid eyes on, propped up in the corner by the head table. The massive vegetable casting a long shadow over practically an eighth of the entire room.

Jack-o-lanterns floating everywhere, hung mid-air in the place of the candles that usually hung overhead. It was all so beautiful. Captivating in a way he hadn't experienced since those first few nights in the Hogwarts castle.

Ron laughed hard at a joke that was probably in bad taste expertly delivered by Seamus. The Irishman's colorful humor a warm balm over the otherwise horrible day. Really, with the splendid wonder of the festively decorated moment, Ron was sure that his bad luck was finally over. Halloween had always been his _second _favorite holiday.

'Actually, I might even write Ginny about this,' he thought with a grin, truly happy for the first time that day. 'It's all just so amazing. I'm sure she'll be so jealous when I tell her about it all,' he finished, his smile never leaving his lips. He was just _so_ happy.

Ron hummed with excitement while he waited for the feast to begin. He really was happy, filled with a true happiness that he hoped would never end. Right now, it didn't matter that he'd been late this morning. It didn't matter that he'd been issued a Saturday detention because of it either. Right before his eyes was more candy, splayed out in large batches about the table, then he'd ever seen in his whole _life_. And it wasn't even time for _dessert_!

No, it certainly didn't matter that he had to eat lunch alone, munching on soggy corned beef sandwiches that he'd distasted with a passion. Not when he was currently surrounded by all of his friends. And _sure_ charms had been a _nightmare_, but maybe he shouldn't have snapped at Hermione like that. She really had just been trying to help.

So, yeah, maybe today _hadn't_ started out that great, but this feast was sure to make up for it. 'Maybe Thursdays aren't all that bad after all,' he thought as the headmaster moved to stand.

Headmaster Dumbledore's speech was quick, filled with the same quirkiness that had been present for the beginning of the year speech which made Ron remember all warm feelings associated with that first day so long ago. With barely controlled restraint Ron dug into the pile of food laid out in front of him, filling his plate high before pouring himself a tall glass of warm cider. Even if it didn't taste as good as his mum's it would be more than good enough for today.

Suddenly, a loud bang interrupted the feast just as he was about to take his first sip, Professor Quirrell stumbling into the Great Hall a shaking mess, turban askew and his robes a disheveled mess that could have rivaled Ron's this morning. Ron set his glass down at the commotion, curious to see what all the fuss was about. He'd never seen the Professor look so frightened. Which was saying a lot because he seemed to be in a constant state of fear.

"T-T-T-Troll in the dungeon!" he stuttered out, barely able to keep himself steady on his own two feet. "Just t-t-t-thought you ought to know," he finished before fainting dead away.

In an instant the Great Hall broke out in noisy chatter. Students throwing confused looks at each other as worry filled the air.

"Enough!" The Headmaster's voice seemed to boom across the room, purple firecrackers exploding from the tip of his wand as he called the room to silence. "Now, prefects please lead your Houses back to your dormitories immediately! Dinner will be served in your common rooms tonight," he announced before swiftly leaving the room, the entire head table trailing behind him.

Ron followed his brother Percy as they made their way back to Gryffindor common room, ignoring his excessive call to order. By now everyone already knew he was a prefect. He really didn't have to keep saying it.

"How do you supposed the troll got in?" Dean asked, pulling up next to him as they followed after his brother.

"Don't ask me, they're _supposed_ to be really stupid," Ron replied with a shrug. He didn't know and he didn't very much care, except for the fact that if he could get a glimpse of the ugly thing than he'd really have something write home about. Now that would really make Ginny jealous she wasn't here. "You know, I'm actually more interested in how the food's supposed to get to the common room. What do you think?" he asked, eyeing both Dean and Seamus as they walked next to him.

"Guess we'll just have to find out," Seamus said with a shrug of his own, Dean nodding in agreement as they climbed the staircase.

The crimson drapes and golden tapestries lining the common room seemed to glow with a new fever as they stepped into the room. The golden platters, dozens of trays of food, littered to room filling nearly every free space. The splendor of the display was enough to make him forget all talk of trolls and ruined dinners.

Everything just looked so _good_, practically the same fragrant trays of food piled high on every available space in the Gryffindor common room. But something felt off, like there was something _missing_. Glancing around at the trays filling the room, he spotted meats and side dishes galore. The smell was amazing, but… "Hey, where'd all the sweets go?" he questioned to the open air, his friends beside him as they took in the spread.

Dean shrugged, hand already reaching out to make up a plate as he spoke, "Maybe they left that for after dinner?"

Nodding at the sense of that statement, Ron reached forward as well, hands moving quickly as he made up another plate for the night. Plate piled high with food, Ron set it down on the end table that they'd claimed for their own before grabbing his cup. Checking the jugs of juice, he searched for the most important part of the night, the cider. 'Pumpkin juice, spiced pumpkin juice, water, more pumpkin juice…' "Where's the cider?" he asked aloud after coming up empty.

"Didn't see any mate."

Ron froze at the words, his head shoot up in surprise as he stared his friend down. No, that couldn't be right. This was _Halloween _and what was Halloween without cider.

"Sorry, Ron," Seamus muttered before shuffling back to his seat, leaving Ron to stare blankly ahead of him.

Finally, after a moment of stunned silence, his face hardened. He'd been right all along. He _hated_ Thursdays.

* * *

**AN:** Howdy, this is the first time I've done one of these (BR13) but there were some important bits that needed telling. One, the spell (infamous by now due to the movies) has two canon pronunciations. One taken straight from the book (USA version and original print) and one transcribed from the movies which can be found on the official Harry Potter wiki page. We've decided to use the one from the books.

Also, while KJ doesn't always (he actually never) read the reviews, I do on occasion. So to clarify one more thing. Yes, twins do see themselves as younger and older siblings and it doesn't matter how far apart they were born. (Fun fact, most twins are born 2-5 minutes apart, KJ and I were born 29 minutes apart). Now, please keep in mind that KJ and I are identical twins and in our lifetime we've met and befriended a lot of other twins (we have a connection that's limited to a twin thing that you can't really understand unless you are one) both identical and fraternal. So trust us in our depiction of the Potter Twins. (Side note: I bet you can't tell which twin is which in the scene where Ron steps in it).

One, you do get one twin that is more outspoken (Charlie in this case). Two, both twins are extremely protective (it's just harder to see because we aren't spending a lot of time in Harry/Charlie's heads and Charlie is more open about it). And three (and perhaps the most important), twins are selfless in general when it comes to each other. No one is more important than your twin which is hard for others to understand (and normally what the average Potter Twin fic misses). But for Harry and Charlie this is far more pronounced due to their upbringing. They rely on each other because that is all they have. So keep that in mind because most twins cater to each other rather than to themselves.

_KJ:_ Surprised this is going out on time. Yeah me too. But seems we can manage a schedule every once in a while. We're not British, so if we get something wrong don't be afraid to tell us. Someone will read the review. Thanks to all those reviewing. Sorry if I don't read them. Personal. As soon as a finish my other story, then I'll read those reviews. So, close I can feel it.


End file.
